Memories & Demons
by morgana07
Summary: Reeling from the deaths of Jo & Ellen, Sam & Dean must come together & get back to their roots to help a friend but Dean gets more than he bargins for. Hurt!Angsts Sam /Hurt!OC /Angsty!Protective Dean. Will have Teenchesters too! Full Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Memories and Demons**

**Summary:** _A part of my Shadows Past series. Right after the deaths of Jo and Ellen, Sam and Dean are still reeling emotionally when a call out of the blue takes them from fighting the Apocalypse back to their roots when they must find Morgan before she becomes a victim of whatever is tearing a small town apart and Dean fights to not only save his friend but battle his own emotional demons when he comes face to face with their past._

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the boys or anything related to the world that Supernatural is. Any original characters belong to me._

**Warnings: **_Some violence, nothing graphic. _

**Ratings: **_T for language and violence._

**Pairings: **_No slash. Minor romance, Dean/OC._

**Tags: **_Nothing definite but spoilers for Season 5 with mentions of past seasons._

**A/N:** _This is part of my Shadows Past series. The first in the series, titled Shadows Past should probably be read first to understand certain mentions in this one._

**SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN SPN**

**Chapter One**

**Birkstown, West Virginia:**

"Alright, 3 memos to self: #1-never answer a call from a nephew around the time when a spooky forest decides it's time to eat people again. #2-never answer that call or agree to check it out when both mystic and mercenaries are busy with other things due to the damn bloody Apocalypse, no guilt trip thrown there, and #3-I should've just picked up the damn cell and called you to start with since I already know how this will play out…"

Staring at the small digital voice recorder in her hand, Morgan Harrison rolled her eyes in mild self disgust as she tracked through the damp forest that sounded the small rural West Virginia town.

Founded shortly after the state was formed during the Civil War, Birkstown was a small town in the Southern part of the state and mostly surrounded by forest. It claimed a population of nearly 900 people and most of those could trace their roots back to the town's founding fathers.

According to official history, it saw very little official action in the War but a few battles did find their way onto the land and if one knew where to look, battle scars could still be seen.

Proud of it's connection and the one serious skirmish that the town could claim, the town council celebrated every year with reenactments, tours, and the usual claims to fame to bring in the tourists. A good thing for the finances of the two-redlight town but not so good when the celebration falls on another type of anniversary.

"What the bloody hell type of spirit, ghost, zombie, ghoul, demon, alien, or other non-living thing wants to come back to this place every twenty years?" the young British woman asked herself sourly, pausing to check the notes she'd scribbled in a small notebook since she'd left the real files behind.

Morgan had been blissfully minding her business in New Orleans while debating on either making a call or going in person to check up on her two favorite hunters since learning of events in Carthage, Missouri when the call had come from her fourteen-year-old nephew.

His hometown had a disturbing secret that wasn't advertised. Every twenty years people would enter a certain part of the forest and never come out. Locals blamed it as kids just running away but when strangers also began to vanish it got harder to explain away.

Never finding an answer, the stories were chalked up to urban legend until the next wave swept through and so it had gone on since during the War. Shane's call had come when his little sister had nearly been a victim.

Estranged from her family, Morgan had been reluctant to go back but the threat to innocent kids made her reconsider enough to go check it out alone rather than wait for her friends to be free or make the call to the one man who probably could help…if he'd talk to her that is.

Because the fact that five year old Emily's little friend had vanished in the woods and no one in town seemed to believe the child's story of what she saw, Morgan didn't take the usual time or precautions as she normally would have.

Getting the basic facts from Shane Murray and leaving the teenager with the full files, her cell phone, and a necklace that she hadn't taken off in years, she gave the boy instructions to call the first number speed dialed in the phone's memory if she didn't return in twenty-four hours.

Now, Morgan found herself on the outskirts of the deep forest with only brief notes, a flashlight, a small tote of supplies and the voice recorder.

The recorder was for the safe side of leaving a verbal log in case things went bad…because things always seemed to go bad these days.

"Angels, demons, devils…bloody hell, what happened to the days of ghosts, vampires and bloody werewolves?" she muttered, stepping out of the dense forest after pausing to leave a mark on a tree that couldn't be distinguished easily.

If the entire area wasn't enough to give even a novice psychic a migraine then she was crazy because as soon as the young woman stepped out of the forest her head was pounding. Surrounded by lush bushes, trees and flowers, the ground itself was dead. No grass grew in the direct vicinity of the old house.

"Yeah, this isn't odd or anything," Morgan sighed, reaching into the tote for an old knife and a flask of holy water she gazed at the two story old fashioned farmhouse that looked like something out of the past.

Bright paint shone on closed shutters, a rocker sat on the front porch as handmade children's toys sat beside it…just like something described in a story and not like a house that should have been nothing but old wood husked out by age and decay.

This was more than cursed land. Something was maintaining the house and only something with serious power could manage that but she was at a loss as to what would be interested in doing something like that is such a small town.

Not a hunter per se, Morgan had her own experiences in dealing with the odd or undead and those experiences were telling her to get the hell out and call for help. Even if that help meant swallowing her pride and having to come clean about some things she'd rather he not know yet.

Opening the holy water, she let a few drops drip onto the dead ground and wasn't surprised when it burned but was shocked when the water turned black. "Oh, bloody hell," she whispered, having only seen this once and barely surviving it. "Time to go," she decided, figuring she'd either fight one brother's stubborn streak or appeal to the other one softer side. "Yeah, we'll go with Sam and work on…shit!"

Morgan whirled as something warned her of danger an instant before pain exploded in her head and things went black.

"You should have stayed out of what did not concern you little witch but one sacrifice is as good as the next."

Barely hearing the melodic voice, Morgan wasn't sure if it was the blow to her head or the prick she felt that caused the dark swirling as she started falling into an abyss but instinct had one last thought pushing through the fog.

'Dean.'

**5 Days Later, Singer Salvage Yard:**

"Quit being an ass and talk to your damn brother."

Bobby Singer wasn't in a good mood. It had been a week since the events in Carthage where the Harvelle women died and to say that Bobby was handling it well would be an understatement.

He knew that Ellen wouldn't have left her only daughter to die alone. Just like he knew that being tore up by a hellhound, Jo's injuries would have been an instant death sentence but that didn't mean he had to accept it easily.

However, he couldn't just turn over and bury himself in grief and whiskey as much as he would've liked to. No, he couldn't do that because he had two self-destructing idjits staying at his place and unlike their own father had on numerous occasions, he wouldn't leave them to flounder on their own.

Even if he did feel like smacking each of them a few times.

"He blames me, Bobby. I can't tell him not to…I mean it was my idea to go after the Colt and…"

"Sam, nobody knew that damn gun wouldn't hurt Lucifer and Dean does not blame you," Bobby argued, watching as the youngest Winchester glumly sat in the front seat of the 1967 black Chevy Impala that was both means of transportation and home. "Hell, right now he blames everyone for everything that's gone wrong and…"

Sam looked up from where he was distractedly cleaning out the front of the car to look between the older man and the house, where he knew his older brother was currently sleeping off last night's encounter with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Let's see, what could he blame me for? Oh, I know. I set Lucifer free because I didn't listen to him, I let myself get hooked on demon blood and didn't listen to him when he said to stop and drop Ruby. I set Lucifer free, I've got hunters on my ass and nearly got killed by them which brought back a piece of Dean's past that I'm not sure he was ready to see again. I set Lucifer free, I come up with the idea to get the Colt back and get Jo and Ellen killed, Dean almost had his skull bashed in by a tree and… oh, did I mention, I set the goddamn Devil free?" Sam finally took a breath to see that Bobby was watching him. "What?"

"You done so I can get a word in?" the grizzled hunter rolled his eyes while parking the wheelchair next to the open door. "Yeah, you set the Devil loose but not all on your own. You thought you were doin' right," holding up a hand, he cut the boy off. "Yeah, you didn't listen to your brother but then Dean didn't exactly make it easy on ya to listen to him at times so that ain't all on your head either. Eventually, you two would've gone after the Colt and I notice that the demon you got it off of didn't mention that it wouldn't work on Lucifer so how were you supposed to know?"

As Sam went to open his mouth, a sharp look shut him up. "Ellen and Jo knew the risks, Sam. Does that mean losing 'em should be easy? Hell, no, but it also doesn't mean you can keep mopin' like this because all that's doing is shaming their memory," Bobby went on, hearing a buzzing but not finding it. "Jo got hurt savin' Dean and that's what's eatin' him…well, that and something else that he won't open up about to me yet but…speaking of…you want breakfast, you'll fix your own since you slept through the one I fixed!"

Grimacing even at the mention of food, Dean Winchester shielded his eyes from the bright sun as he nearly fell down the steps from the porch. "Please, don't even say food," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck absently. "I have a chorus line of strippers pounding in my damn head."

"That's what you get when you drink my unopened bottle of Jack all by yourself, ya moron," Bobby could understand the young man's grief but that didn't mean he'd sympathize with him. "I wasn't expecting you up until midnight…if then."

"Yeah, well thank the sharp stabbing pain in my damn head for that," Dean growled, trying to not notice that his kid brother was intentionally trying to look at him while appearing to be not looking at him. "I woke up to a scream and some nasty images that I can do without."

"Nightmares should be par and parcel for you by now, boy," Bobby responded, not liking how pale Dean seemed and again hearing the buzzing but ignored it. "You gonna sit down or fall on your face?"

Grimacing, Dean slowly eased against the side of the Impala while sliding a glance to his brother but not saying anything. "No, it wasn't a nightmare like that," he complained, trying to put it out of his thoughts but couldn't quite dispel the cold hand he felt gripping his heart. It was usually only a feeling he got over two people and one of those people was currently trying to clean out their car. "This was more like someone screaming and jabbing me with an ice pick at the same time…haven't felt it like that though since I was…sixteen."

"That was when…" Sam started to speak but shut up, dropping his eyes back down to the pile of crumpled fast food papers, old sticky notes…and something that he thought was once a peanut butter sandwich but since he had to stab it he honestly wasn't certain. "I mean…"

"You can say her name, Sam," Dean muttered, knowing that the last time he'd had that same feeling was the year he'd been sixteen and Morgan had been with them. "I don't snarl at it…much."

"Yeah and I'm a Can-Can dancer in Paris," Bobby snorted, watching both brothers closely to see how much longer he'd have to wait before he slammed their stubborn heads together. "Before you saw her again in Oregon, you couldn't even think that name without snarling. Now you just grit your teeth and I think that's just because you didn't appreciate her parting gift."

Nearly snarling now, Dean refused to rise to the bait of that teasing even though the CD player the young woman had left on the seat of the Impala still needled him. "That's like this idiot putting that I-thing on my baby," he argued, wincing as another wave of pain went through his head. "It's sacrilege."

Keeping his mouth shut, Sam also shifted so his brother didn't see the small smile he had. Tossing the handful of crap in the bag at his feet, he then opened the glovebox to clean it out when he finally heard the same buzzing that Bobby had been hearing. "One of the phones is ringing."

"That's not Dad's ringtone," Dean shoved off the bumper to lean over the car door just as his brother was removing the ringing object and for some reason that he couldn't name, he really did not want to touch that phone. "That's my old one."

"When'd you have that ringtone?" Bobby asked, squinting as it didn't seem like the older boy's type when he noticed the odd look Dean now had. "Dean? What's the matter?"

Sam, however, thought he knew what the bothering his brother as he looked at the phone in his hand. "It's the tone you set for Morgan, isn't it?" he asked without looking up, remembering the bickering his brother and friend had done over that tone the summer he'd been twelve. "Dean?"

Ignoring his brother, Dean snatched the phone out of his hand and for a moment both Sam and Bobby thought he might throw the thing but after a couple more rings he hit the button for speaker. "Yeah?" he growled, voice hard but only Sam could tell that it wasn't from anger but concern.

Expecting to hear a smart comeback about the tone used to answer the call, both brothers were a little surprised to hear instead of the often soft but cocky British lilt a fully American youthful sounding boy on the other end.

"Is this Dean Winchester?"

Scowling more and this time with a definite surge of anger, Dean gripped the phone. "Maybe. Who the hell is this because you sure as hell ain't the person who should have this number."

"Listen, dude, I've been calling this number for the past five freakin' days looking for a Dean Winchester because my Aunt said to call him if she didn't come back in twelve hours. Well, she didn't come back and you don't answer your damn phone so is this Dean Winchester or not because if not then I gotta find a way to scream for a mystic!" the boy snapped back

Blinking as in surprise at the tone, Dean shot Bobby a glare before he could smirk before he turned the glare on the phone that Sam had grabbed to hold in case his brother decided to toss the thing anyway.

"Who's your Aunt?" Sam asked, hoping to buy time so his brother would stop smoking. "Dean, settle down!"

The boy on the other end snorted in such a familiar way that Sam guessed the answer. "Do I sound like I just fell off the turnip truck to you, Mister?" he countered, obviously shushing his own warning voice at his end. "I have people dropping dead and disappearing in the woods all because some stupid witch can't stay dead. My Aunt went to check it out and didn't come back and she gave me all the files, her cellphone and orders to call some guy I don't know and tell him to quit being an ass because if she was desperate enough to call him for help then something should be wrong. That and she gave me her necklace which she said to give him the second he showed his face but if neither of you are going to say you're who I need then…"

"I'm Dean Winchester," Dean had grabbed his phone back from his brother to cut the snot nosed kid off. "Now, who are you and where's Morgan?" he demanded, feeling the pain in his head again but ignoring it in favor of squeezing information out of the kid, who sounded wayyy to much like Morgan had back then for his comfort, for information.

"I'm Shane Murray, she's my Aunt, and if I knew where she was I wouldn't be calling you, smart guy," he shot back, hissing at someone behind him before going on. "Alright, sorry. My cousin is pointing out that I just dropped this on you sorta hard and Aunt Morgan did mention that you weren't always good with shocks so…"

This time Bobby had to turn away to hide his smirk even as Dean's eyes were narrowing dangerously. "In twenty words or less, sitrep this for me," Dean gritted, warning Sam with a look to keep quiet. "Where are you, what was she doing, where the hell is that damn merc and or mystic, and what witch?"

"Birkstown, West Virginia, Aunt Morgan came because the disappearances started again like they do every twenty years. She went in because the batty witch who is supposed to be behind the curse tried to grab my little sister. Kelly's in Hungary and who the hell knows where MacShayne is," Shane replied in a similar tone to the one Dean liked to use when pissed. "That clear enough?"

Not answering for a minute, Dean turned to stare at the junk cars in an effort to buy himself time and to calm down his racing heart.

He should've known when he'd woken up like he had that something was wrong. Hell, he'd always known it before but that link had been blocked since the night she'd run from Bobby's when he'd been sixteen. Something was bringing it back and Dean wasn't certain he liked what those reasons could be.

Five days. Morgan had been missing for five days on a job that could involve anything but he knew that she should've been able to handle a simple witch's curse. If not, then something else was going on. Something that screamed trouble, especially with the way he was feeling. The problem was, he and Sam were still reeling both physically and emotionally from recent events. He wasn't sure if they were ready to deal with anything yet. Plus, could he justify leaving the problem of the looming Apocalypse just to go help a friend…even if that friend had been more once and she had just recently saved his little brother's life.

"Damn it," he scrubbed a hand over his face, avoiding looking at Sam because he knew what he'd see reflected in those big hazel puppy dog eyes. "Don't, Sam."

Knowing the inner struggle that his brother was going through, Sam bit his lip. "Dean, it wasn't all her fault that she left," he reminded him tightly, motioning to the phone as the boy talked again.

"Look, I can get that you probably don't want to come all this way but…" Shane paused as if considering something. "She'd been in New Orleans getting ready to go see you when I called. She said something about not calling unless she didn't come back or it got too bad because she knew you and your brother were both hurting but…she's hurt too. Something about stupid Angels and breaking a bald freak's head so she probably shouldn't have gone into those woods alone," he said, adding in a more sedate tone. "She did say to tell you that if the whole Apocalypse thing had you too busy to come, not to worry about it. Just to look after your brother or she'd slap you in the head from…"

"Directions!" Dean snapped, having heard enough. He knew the words in between those. He knew Morgan didn't expect him to give a crap enough to come even though clearly from what Sam had learned she had been watching out for both of them without them knowing it. She knew he still harbored a grudge for the way she left without an explanation so he wouldn't come now. Well, he wasn't letting go that easily. He'd fight for his brother and he'd fight for the friendship he once had with a girl his father had hated. A girl that his sixteen year old heart had slowly fallen in love with.

As both Sam and Bobby watched, Dean reached for a piece of paper out of the glove box to write directions down when a chuckle was heard. "Dude, I know Aunt Morgan said you didn't have too much technology in that car but surely you have a GPS that can track your way to rural West Virginia or track the GPS in her cell?"

"Kid, remind me when I get there to…" Dean stopped himself from finishing the threat even before Sam cleared his throat. "Shoot the coordinates to this number and we'll be there. Is there anything else she said that I should know?"

Shane was silent for a little while as if he was thinking. "She jus said she was sorry she messed up your lives so much and she wished she would've told you the full truth."

"Oh, no worries there, kid. I fully intend for that to happen," Dean muttered, hanging up even as Sam's phone began ringing with a text message or coordinates. "Nothing's happening to that girl until I find out just what the hell she's been doing. Pack, we're on the road in thirty."

Not surprised, Sam nodded but didn't mention that he hadn't unpacked. "What are we doing, Dean?"

"We're telling Lucifer, the Angels, Heaven, Hell and everything in between to take a backburner while we go back to our roots, Sammy," his brother replied, looking at a worn photo he'd pulled from his jeans pocket. "We're going to find a goddamn witch and burn her bones if Morgan's hurt and then I'm going to throttle our friend for driving me insane more than you do!" he growled, stomping back to the house to grab his own duffel.

"This should be interesting," Sam sighed, not sure who was in more danger from his brother; the witch in question or the teenage boy with an attitude on the phone. "Bobby, do you think I should…"

Wheeling the chair back to the house, Bobby just shot the younger man a look. "Dean's taking you with him because you're a team, Sam," he replied, rolling his eyes. "And because you can keep him and Morgan from killing one another but if things get too bad you call me and don't hesitate to head back here if she's hurt."

"Her being hurt is what worries me," Sam muttered, checking his phone to see where they were going and knowing that after Jo Harvelle died in Carthage saving Dean that his brother wouldn't be able to cope with another woman he cared for dying. "Dean, where the hell is this place?" he asked after Dean came back out and practically shoved him into the Impala.

Bobby missed the older Winchester's response as the Impala roared out of his lot with wheels spinning and dust flying and he sighed. "Damn you, John," he said aloud, giving the senior Winchester a sour thought. He'd been inside his house the night that John Winchester and Morgan Harrison had had that final fight before the girl stormed out but only Bobby knew the real reasons she left. Just like he knew more than Dean did about what the girl had been doing and how upset Dean will be when he finds out.

Taking a pack of bundled letters that had been sent to Dean but the boy had never seen out of a drawer in his desk, Bobby tossed 'em on top. "Damn kids are goin' to be the death of me yet," he growled, hoping the boys were in time as he started looking into this possible witch himself.

**TBC**

**A/N: **_More action starts in the next chapter as Dean and Sam arrive in Birkstown to look for their friend only to find it not so easy. Is it really a witch or something else? Can Dean finally put the past aside to help his friend and how will he react when demons from his past begin to resurface? Sam must cope with his own inner doubts plus a brother too close to the edge._


	2. Chapter 2

**Memories & Demons**

**A/N: **_Look for my first attempt at Teen!Chesters in this chapter. I know, scary._

**Chapter Two**

**Birkstown, West Virginia:**

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean Winchester muttered, stopped at one of two redlights in the tiny rural town to take his first good look. "What self-respecting witch would haunt this place?" he asked no one in particular since he was aware that his brother was still sleeping in the seat next to him.

Driving straight through from South Dakota to West Virginia hadn't been easy on either the Winchesters or the Impala but since five days had already been lost, Dean hadn't wanted to lose anymore and he'd stubbornly refused to let Sam break him from behind the wheel.

Dean's excuse had been sound…or at least to him. Sam rarely slept these days. He hadn't been sleeping since it became clear that Lucifer could target him in his dreams so he'd taken to staying awake as much as possible…unless his brother was with him.

Since the attack by hunters a little over a month ago, Dean had worked on settling a lot of the problems that had been keeping him and his brother at odds. They'd been doing better…until Carthage…until Jo and Ellen had died…and until Lucifer didn't die. Now it felt like they were right back to where they started before that day in a cabin in Oregon.

'She'll be pissed when she finds that out,' he told himself sourly, drumming his fingers restlessly on the wheel while waiting for the light to change and letting his thoughts drift.

They drifted to a young woman he'd been trying to avoid thinking about since she'd once again ditched out during the night in Oregon a month ago rather than face him with just what the hell had happened between them. More importantly, according to what he'd learned from his brother, what the hell had happened between Morgan and his father.

Sam had said that John had threatened to split his sons up if Dean continued to be friends with Morgan. His brother had said that the fourteen-year-old British girl had left to protect them even though John had given Dean an entirely different story.

"Yeah, and Dad never lied to you or anything," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes and once again wondering if dumping the fight to stop the Apocalypse for a personal reason was a good move, then just as quickly squelched the doubts.

Morgan had meant a lot to him, she'd always meant a lot to his brother and he owed her for saving Sam's life back in Oregon when he wasn't there so if for no other reason than that, he'd find the missing woman. "Then throttle her for making me worry, damn it,"

Looking over to see that Sam was curled against the door much like you would as a kid brought back memories of another time…sixteen years ago to when a fifteen year old Dean Winchester had snuck out one night to hunt what was supposed to have just been a restless spirit in an old graveyard but he found a hell of a lot more….

**Flashback: 15 years earlier, South Dakota:**

"Hmm, disturbed graves, ransacked tombs and some mutilated animals…sure don't sound like a vengeful spirit," Dean Winchester muttered to himself as he tightened the leather jacket around himself to ward off the chill that the damp October air, not to mention the rain, was causing him to feel.

Sneaking out of the motel was risky but since his eleven-year-old brother was sleeping soundly and their Dad wasn't due back for another couple days, Dean figured it was safe enough to take a quick hike out to an old abandoned cemetery to check into what a few locals were calling a haunting.

"What damn ghost haunts a cemetery?" he wondered, easily holding his flashlight, a shotgun loaded with rocksalt and a duffel with some salt, lighter fluid and matches while managing not to fall over any overturned stones or twist his ankle.

Raised by John Winchester, Dean had grown up knowing that there were things in the dark that killed. Hell, his own mother had been taken by just such a thing. It had been that incident that had changed Dean's normal life since it had been Mary Winchester's death that had sent her husband chasing the unknown and dragging his sons along with him.

Still regretting the Christmas night that his little brother had learned the truth of what their Dad really did, Dean had sworn to keep Sam as safe as possible…from everything. Which was why after hearing some people at the motel talking about the spirit in the cemetery and the string of missing kids that he'd chosen to strike out on his own to look into it and if needed, salt and burn the son of a bitch. Just in case it decided his little brother looked like a good target.

Stepping around what appeared to be a newly overturned gravestone, Dean frowned. He'd heard a lot about spirits, seen a couple, but he hadn't heard of one who would desecrate it's own cemetery or slaughter animals.

Setting the bag down, he shifted slightly when he heard a sound off to his right but it didn't sound like a ghost. It wasn't until he heard what sounded like an animal screech that he spun around with the shotgun held ready and fired a round off only to see what looked like a shadow move just out of reach of the rocksalt barrage.

"Shit!" he swore, turning quickly to fire another round when he suddenly felt the shotgun be knocked violently out of his hands. "Damn!" feeling more than seeing his attacker, he swung out a punch that would have made his former Marine Dad proud only to feel it go through air just as a stiff hand struck him in the chest, making him gasp.

Instinct had Dean fighting back even though the dark rainy cemetery wasn't the best place to get into a fight since any fall onto sharp rock could kill him…not to mention what his Dad will do if he ever found out.

Sensing the next strike, he grabbed the wrist of what he still assumed was a ghost or something paranormal only to frown when he realized his attacker was shorter than him. Before he could glimmer any other information, he felt a foot snake behind his ankle in a classic takedown maneuver that he couldn't counter in that quick a moment, and the next thing Dean knew was he was flat on his back, feeling the press of a knife against his throat.

"Lesson learned, mate. Next time, don't shoot rocksalt at somebody unless you know it's a bloody ghost cause all it does is tend to tick people off," a soft, lilting little voice remarked close to his ear making his eyes shoot open wide to find himself facing not an old crazy spirit but…

"You're a little girl!" he hissed, feeling the knife press slightly more intently and decided that talking might not be wise as he caught the glare of narrowed blue eyes.

"Right, and you're so bleedin' old, hotshot," the girl with the British accent tossed back, easily kneeling on his chest since they both knew so long as she held the knife that any quick movements would be stupid on his part. "Boy, they start hunters out early, don't they?" she seemed to be musing to herself, cocking her head as if watching the clearly pissed off teenage boy before smiling. "Not too bright though or you'd know that silly shotgun wasn't going to kill the problem here. It'll only bring…oh, shit!"

Surprised at not only the tone but also the really adult use of the swear word, Dean could only blink when the weight on his chest lifted as she moved with an agility he had to admire to look into the darkness. "Got anything besides a shotgun or lighter fluid in that bag, hotshot?" she asked him.

"No, why…?" Dean started to ask when a growl made him turn just as something hurled him against a stone, making him see stares before a bright light shot from somewhere to force the growling, pasty faced looking thing away from him. "What…"

"Zombies aren't affected by rocksalt, slick," she replied easily, tossing him the knife she'd been holding at his throat. "Use this to at least keep it from smashing that pretty face in."

Gritting his teeth, Dean swore he smash her pretty little face in the first chance he got but hesitated when he noticed that she seemed to be intentionally drawing the thing away from him and toward what appeared to be an open grave.

"C'mon, ugly, you were having too much fun trying to eat me or dismember me before slick there came along," she taunted, easily avoiding the zombie's grabs until finally she shifted to the very edge of the grave only to find the dirt had gotten slippery in the pouring rain and felt her foot slip. "Bloody…"

Seeing the girl fall into the grave just a second before the creature went to lunge for her, Dean reacted with the instincts his Dad was instilling in him. "Hey!" he yelled, wondering what the hell he was doing since he couldn't recall his Dad's journal having anything on how to kill a zombie much less distract one. "You're such a wuss that you'd rather pick on a little girl? Why not try me, fugly?" he taunted, glancing quickly at the knife in his hand to notice that the blade was etched with writing like he'd never seen before.

With a growl, he soon had other things to worry about when the living dead suddenly lunged toward him with more speed than a rotting dead guy should ever have and he readied himself to move out of the way after slashing the blade. Again, however he found himself tossed into a heavy marble stone but this time he had sinewy fingers clamped around his neck.

Struggling to bring the knife up, Dean stuck the blade into a forearm and saw it hiss and heard the zombie shriek but it didn't release its grip so as he fought to break its hold, something bring shot out to strike the creature in the back. Soon, he saw the bright light consuming the zombie who released the struggling teenager to whirl back to face the now muddy and highly ticked girl whose hand was held out steady to control the light searing the zombie out of existence.

Falling to his knees to gasp for air, Dean slowly looked up to see that the zombie had become nothing but a pile of dust while the girl who had just shortly before held a knife at his throat was glaring at the pile in disgust before slowly lifting blue eyes up to meet his wary green ones.

"I didn't want to wipe him out like that," she sighed, her hand clenching. "Hunters don't tend to take it very well when they see me do stuff like that and we both know that's what you are, right, slick?"

Staring at her, Dean wasn't sure what to make of this. He'd seen her take out a zombie with a glowing light so that would normally mean she'd be considered the same thing as the zombie but…she'd saved his life and…damn, why was his head ringing? Blinking, he was about to speak when the pain in his head reminded him of being tossed multiple times and the last thing he recalled was hearing her ask if he was alright before his face met the mud.

Waking up with a killer headache and feeling like crap, Dean looked to see where he was only to find that he was laying on his bed back in the motel. Reaching up carefully, he noticed that his head wound or wounds probably had been cleaned and dressed…and…he frowned when he realized he'd been put into dry clean clothes.

The last thing the fifteen year old remembered was being at the cemetery, fighting a zombie with…the girl…he recalled her blasting the thing out of existence and nothing so how'd he… Sam…

Looking around, Dean noticed that his little brother wasn't in bed any longer when he heard the sound of the TV playing in the living room and his little brother laughing happily. "Sam!"

Forgetting his wounds or the way his stomach would revolt at the sudden movement, Dean ran for the living room to find his brother was…sitting on the couch happily eating the dinner that Dean couldn't get him to touch and chatting with…the very little girl that he'd just met.

Alright, now that Dean could see better he'd admit she wasn't a little girl. She was probably a year or so younger than him if he had to guess. Now in the light of the motel, he could see her strawberry blond hair was long and still damp from the rain as she sat on the couch with Sam cuddled up to her side while he showed her something that he thought was vitally important and she seemed to be agreeing with him.

Looking up as if sensing him, he found himself looking directly into bright blue eyes that appeared slightly wary now but also calm and as she glanced back at his brother, he saw a kindness that very few people showed Sam.

"Hello…Dean," she greeted softly, a tiny nod down to tell him how she'd learned his name. "Sam has slightly more brains than you and knew not to follow when he woke up to find you gone. He figured it best to have the first aid kit out though. You must need it a lot."

The teasing tone wasn't lost on the older boy nor was his brother's giggle as Sam scooted off the couch to run over to his brother.

"Morgan said you fell down in the cemetery and hit your head while saving her from the ghost, Dean," the smaller boy replied, clearing worried for his brother but also clearly pleased to have helped clean his brother's wound…after he'd made certain this stranger wasn't going to hurt them. "She said you blasted the ghost and then salted and burned the bones like it says in Dad's journal but we shouldn't tell Dad because he'd be upset that he missed it. Right, Dean?"

Placing a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, Dean took the time to notice that his brother looked cleaner than he had before he'd gone to bed the first time and actually smelled like his favorite bubble bath which he hadn't wanted to use in months.

"After I got done helping clean you up…boy, did you really fall in the mud, Morgan helped me take a bath and wash my hair since I was all muddy too," Sam went on cheerfully, looking back at his new best friend before tugging on Dean's hand.

"Morgan, huh?" he repeated the name as he locked eyes with her, lifting a brow to ask every question he had in his mind right then.

"Little chatterbox, isn't he?" Morgan grinned at Sam before lightly running a hand down his wavy hair to push it out of his eyes. "Sam, how about going into the kitchen and getting your brother that other bowel of soup on the counter?"

Hazel eyes lighting up, Sam was quickly gone to the kitchen and as soon as the boy was out of earshot, she aimed a warning look at Dean. "Ask fast while he's out of the room because despite the attitude you give off, I actually like your brother."

Considering, Dean eased down on the arm of the chair to watch her. "Got a last name?" he asked rather than the trillion he had been thinking of asking.

"Harrison," obviously that wasn't the question she'd been expecting when those same blue eyes narrowed again. "You want to ask, so ask about what you saw. Like I said, most hunters tend to freak."

"My Dad's a hunter. I'm just a brother looking to protect my kid brother," Dean returned, hearing Sam in the kitchen. "A witch?" he guessed, seeing a smile that made him want to smile back.

"That's the easiest way to explain it," she shrugged, absently tugging on a strand of hair, which was the first clue he got that she was uneasy. "The powers don't get used very often unless it's with my own people but I kind of figured you were too cute, if a little cocky, to get wasted tonight so I broke my own rules. Now, I guess the ball's in your court. I've been called every name in the book by some hunters we've crossed paths with and I figure John Winchester won't be any different…how's his son feel?"

Swallowing hard, Dean found himself wondering the exact same thing since he knew how his Dad would probably react to the girl. So how did he feel? He was taught that anything supernatural was bad but…now as he sat looking at this girl who had not only saved his life but had clearly been taking care of his little brother…he wondered about that.

"I suppose his son feels like…he ought to thank you for getting that one in a bathtub without World War III," he grinned finally, holding out a hand. "Dean Winchester, though I'm sure you know that by the eleven year old motor mouth in the kitchen."

Suddenly almost shy, Morgan reached out to take his hand just as Sam was bustling back in with a tray filled with soup, a hastily made cheese sandwich and juice. "He was scared," she murmured softly, seeing Dean nod while taking the tray from his brother to sit it on the coffee table. "Sammy, Dad didn't call did he?"

Grabbing a peeled orange off the plate that he'd been sitting by, Sam stuck it in his mouth while shaking his head. "Not Dad," he said, adding helpfully. "Jus' Pastor Jim who said he'd be stopping by to…"

Two sets of eyes pinned the boy before Dean groaned and Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't think to ask him that one," she admitted. "I just asked to make sure your Dad wasn't around."

"Son of…" biting off the words because of his brother's recent fondness of repeating them at the worst times, Dean figured his new friend probably didn't want to be around when the Pastor turned Hunter arrived and was trying to think when a knock came on the door and Sam ran for it before his brother could react. "This bad?"

"If it's your Dad, yeah," Morgan admitted, never having met the senior Winchester before but having hear of him she wasn't exactly eager to meet like this. "If it's…"

"Pastor Jim!" Sam was thrilled to see the kindly older hunter who he and Dean often stayed with when they were near his home. "Guess what? Dean fell and the mud and…"

Smiling at the smaller boy's obvious exuberance, Jim Murphy was about to caution Sam about talking to fast when his gaze fell on the girl and he stopped to eye Dean. "Really, Dean fell in the mud?" he sat his overnight bag in the chair before closing the door. "I guess that's where he was when I phoned?"

Nodding, Sam knew he shouldn't tell his Dad but no one said anything about not telling Pastor Jim who you could tell anything and he wouldn't repeat it. "Yeah! He went hunting a ghost and saved Morgan but then he fell in the mud and hurt his head so she brought him back here and we cleaned him up and then she put me in the tub with bubbles cause I was muddy too and…"

"And to think, Dad was worried he'd never say his first word," Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth while wishing his little brother would develop a cramp in his vocal cords. "Sammy."

Placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, Jim held out the travel bag. "Sam, how about taking this into your Dad's room for me?" he requested, explaining at Dean's unspoken look. "I'll be staying here until John gets back in a few more days. He picked up on word of something close by here that he didn't want you boys on your own."

"Too late for that," Morgan replied under her breath, smacking Dean in the back of his head lightly when he went to nudge her.

Jim waited until Sam had left the room to eye the older two, looking between them for a long moment before sighing. "Head hurt bad, Dean?" he asked the elder Winchester brother first, seeing the bandage on his head and wondering how many other bruises he'd had but wouldn't be there now.

"Umm, no sir, Pastor Jim," Dean scuffed the floor, thinking rapidly of a way to explain this when to his shock the hunter merely shifted a dry, almost amused look, at Morgan.

"I guess I don't need to say that you're lucky I showed up and not their Father?" he remarked casually, noticing that the living room certainly looked better cared for than what the boys usually did. "Had Sam help pick stuff up after you conned him into a bubble bath, I take it?"

Dean's eyes went back and forth between them to see his new friend merely offer a mild shrug before reaching for her jacket.

"He was scared for Dean, so after I got him cleaned, dried and redressed, he needs new shoes by the way, I mentioned that maybe it would be better for his brother to wake up to all the stuff put away," she didn't seem to know how rare a treat it was to get Sam to do anything when he was hyper. "Don't worry, Jim. I'm leaving." pausing to look at Dean with a smaller smile. "Tell Sam I said goodbye and maybe we'll run into each other again."

Unsure what to say to that, he only nodded. Very certain for some reason that they would meet again but frowned when Jim laid a hand on his shoulder after the door had closed.

"Dean, I can't tell you what to do and since I'm fairly certain you probably know that Morgan isn't your normal thirteen year old, I'll only say to be careful what you tell John," he cautioned the boy seriously. "Your father can be a bit too intense and obsessed for some things so…"

Understanding what he was saying, Dean stared at the door and wondered if or when he'd see her again and why he had the strange feeling that he and his brother's lives might've just changed for the better for once…

**Present Day West Virginia:**

The loud honking of a horn behind him reminded Dean that he was sitting at a red, now green light, in some tiny town in rural West Virginia on his way to hopefully find a friend.

Waving a hand to the driver behind him, he shook his head to clear his thoughts of the past but for some reason still couldn't forget the night he'd first met Morgan. Or how quickly she'd become so important to both he and Sam…or the way a package with new shoes for Sam had arrived at Pastor Jim's house the very next week. His Dad had just looked at him but didn't ask.

"Dean?" Sam woke up at the horn, looking around as he sat up to rub his eyes tiredly as he had once. "You okay?" he asked, noticing that his brother seemed even more distracted than when he'd fallen to sleep.

Glancing over, Dean eyed Sam closely to see that he still looked tired but for some reason he let his eyes drop and he couldn't help the smirk that came. "Huh," he muttered, looking back up. "You need new shoes."

"Huh?" certain now that Dean had flipped, Sam was about to suggest they pull over so he could drive when he spotted the large three story white house at the end of a winding hill. "Up there, that's where we want to go."

"Figures," Dean sighed, wondering why he figured the only bed and breakfast in the town would be situated a little closer to downtown.

As the Impala pulled the hill easily, both brothers frowned when they noticed the local Sheriff's cruiser parked in front.

"We haven't been in any trouble recently, right?" he asked, wracking his brain to recall if they had when Sam shot him a 'Are you insane' look.

"Dean, when aren't we doing something to attract the cops?" he countered, still uneasy around local cops even though they often pretended to be law officers themselves. "It's a small town, the Sheriff could be a regular or something. Just be cool and don't threaten anyone while he's here."

Deciding to remain silent on that, Dean pulled off to the side to finally notice that the Sheriff seemed to engaging in a rather loud argument with a sandy haired boy of about fourteen while two other boys looked on and his gut seemed to clench. "What're the odds that the one he's yelling at is the one we need?"

Considering the odds and their luck, Sam just chalked it up to another slap in the hand of fate and got out of the car. "We have a cover?"

"Yeah, we're looking for our friend," Dean replied tightly, stepping out of the car and paused to fasten the worn leather jacket as the October wind blew past them. "Remind me to ask Morgan why she couldn't have relatives in California or Texas or someplace warm."

Sam grinned a little, pleased that his brother was talking more but he waited until Dean moved around the car to follow a little behind.

Working on keeping a blank face, Dean knew the moment the boy spotted them because his eyes slid past them to eye the Impala with a tiny grin before refocusing on the Sheriff. "What?" he asked blankly even though Dean knew the boy had heard every word shouted at him.

"I said, I do not want you, Ian, or Tony going into those damn woods, Shane!" the Sheriff, a rather tall rangy man who might have been a little around Dean's height of 6' with thick dark blond hair that looked out of place since he'd been running his hands through it since this nightmare started. "Your Aunt's a big girl and knows what she's doing. I'm sure she's…"

"Been missing for five days when she didn't take her phone, any provisions for staying in the woods or any way to call for help," the boy put in, clearly not happy but finally waved a hand. "Fine, Dad. I'll stay outta the woods but don't you think you or Uncle Jason should take a look? Estranged or not, Aunt Morgan is still your sister…adopted or not."

As the Sheriff for the town, Shea Murray had always dealt with a lot of stress around the time of the annual reenactments and he'd been dreading this years for the very reason his younger sister had come back. He hadn't liked the idea of her going into the woods alone but trying to tell Morgan not to do something is mainly what caused the issues between her and the family to start so he'd let her go. Now he wasn't sure what to do.

"Just stay out of the damn woods and give it some time. I'm sure she's fine," he sighed, turning to go back to town when he spotted the two new strange men and instantly his warning bells went off. "Can I help you?"

The shorter of the two in Shea's opinion and the one who seemed to be the one to talk to just arched a brow easily but it was the way he did it that made the Sheriff think that these two could be trouble.

"The local law runs the B&B?" Dean asked calmly, feeling Sam's elbow nudge him in the back.

"Yeah, actually I do," Shea admitted, tilting his hat back to take a closer look at the men but while the taller of the two seemed to be more hesitant about confrontation, the same couldn't be said for his pal.

"Funny, shouldn't you be out looking for crime or do people vanishing in your town not mean much?" Dean tossed out, hearing his brother hiss something at him but for some reason the lack of caring the cop was showing really irked him. "Must not be an election year."

Shea's eyes fired dangerously as he stepped forward only to find his son pushing between himself and the stranger.

"Dad, go. These guys are the students from that community college up in Wheeling that was coming down to study the reenactments," he broke in quickly, keeping his back turned to Dean and Sam as he concentrated on getting his father out of here. "Mom's got their reservations ready. Go, before you're late for the council meeting."

Giving the smart ass another warning look, Shea finally nodded. Walking off toward he cruiser he paused at the door. "Y'know, we're a small friendly town, Mister. I don't take troublemakers coming here mouthing off about crap you know nothin' about. I'll be watching you."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will, Sheriff," Dean muttered, whirling to smack Sam in the back in the head. "What's with the shushing?"

"Why'd you have to talk to the cop like…" Sam drew off as he recalled another conversation like this and sighed. "Just calm down, Dean. Getting arrested is not going to get us what you want."

"Yeah, and my Dad won't hesitate to throw you in a cell if you get on his bad side," the boy spoke, turning to face them finally but while he gaze Sam a cursory inspection, it was Dean that drew the longer look. "Funny, the way Aunt Morgan talked I thought you'd be…taller."

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder to urge restraint but it was already being shrugged off in favor of looking down at the light haired bright eyed boy.

"So, you the one with the attitude on the phone?" Dean asked, noticing the other two boys. "There's more of you?"

"Ian and Tony Murray, my cousins," Shane Murray acknowledged before finally sticking out a hand to both Winchesters. "C'mon. I stashed all the stuff out in the garden house."

Without giving them a chance to ask anything, the boys took off around the back of the house while the other two boys seemed to vanish as if to distract anyone from within the house while Sam and Dean followed Shane to the backyard.

"By garden house, I kind of expected a tool shed," Dean coughed, eyeing the small but quaint looking guest style house. "Check this family out as soon as you can fire the laptop up, okay?"

Merely nodding, Sam was also taken aback by the house that Shane was motioning them into, shutting the door behind him but then he was distracted by something else.

While it looked pretty and well sized from the outside, it was basically one room that included a small kitchen and a pull-out sofa style bed with a few chairs littered about. The problem was, he also recognized the lingering scent and hoped his brother didn't.

"Soooo," Dean blew out a breath while straddling a chair. "Morg not good enough for the main house or what?" he asked casually but the tension was obvious as the boy began digging into a familiar worn duffel.

"She and my Uncle's wife's family don't exactly see eye to eye so Aunt Morgan just chose to stay out here," Shane now hoped he could keep these guys from the rest of his family. "Anyway, here are the files on the history of the area, the witch in question and the disappearance and anything else that Aunt Morgan thought was vital though I'm sure she recorded more on the digital recorder she took with her."

Sliding the files to his brother to look at, Dean was reaching for something else the boy pulled out and felt his jaw tighten as he closed his fingers around the silver chain with an engraved heart. "Why'd she leave this?" he demanded, feeling something like fear begin to curl in his stomach.

"Said it was yours and if anything happened then she wanted you to have it back," Shane shrugged, leaning on the edge of the table to watch Dean. "Like I said, Aunt Morgan was acting weird anyway when I called her so I'm not sure what was really going on. She only came because this thing tried to grab my sister but told me to call that number if she didn't come back. I'm guessing you know her."

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean muttered, staring at the necklace for a long while before sliding it into a pocket of his jacket. "So, you making any sense of her notes?"

Face tight, Sam felt like pounding his head in. "Sure, give me two weeks and a decoder manual and I might, might mind you, figure out half of what she wrote in the margins," he replied sourly, shoving a folder toward his brother. "These aren't like her journal, Dean. It's like she jotted notes in code so no one else could understand it. Hell, it's like deciphering your writing which, by the way, is easier than figuring this out."

Alright, so we'll work on that later," not liking this turn of events since he couldn't see why Morgan would code notes on such a simple thing. "Directions to the general area she went to?" he asked. "We'll go take a look, see if we can't pick up a trail or something."

"I wrote 'em down," Shane slid a paper over, chewing his bottom lip uneasily. "She's alright, right?" he asked, sounding like a frightened teenager for the first time since Dean had picked up the call. "I mean, Aunt Morgan survives crap like this all the time so a little witch couldn't really hurt her, right?"

Dean felt Sam's eyes on him while he seemed to stare at anything but the boy's worried eyes before he finally lifted his own gaze up to meet his. "Yeah, Shane, Morgan's going to be fine. Me and Sammy'll get her back safe and sound," he replied firmly, seeing the relief that came while praying he hadn't just made a broken promise.

Reaching for the duffel, Dean stuffed the folders inside for later inspection. "She say anything else that might help?"

"Aside from you being too pig-headed for your own good and that you were both probably self-destructing by now. That she really didn't have the time to handle a screwy witch when she had to go sort your heads out…again," Shane quoted in a way that both Winchesters knew that the British girl had indeed said those very words. "I know she was hurt from some fight she had in New Orleans but all she'd say was that she'd have Jack deal with that bald SOB and then let it go."

"Uh-huh," Dean gritted, figuring he knew what that meant and swearing to find out from their resident Angel pal if Zachariah or someone had been screwing around with his friend. "Alright, stay here and see if you can't dig up any hard facts or better yet an idea where this witch was buried since I guess we won't be lucky and people back then would think to salt and burn a corpse."

"Dude, what world do you live in?" the boy asked with a laugh. "Back then, a shallow grave was probably too much to ask for."

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a cell phone that he held out. "This is her phone. Not sure if she just left it or not but it was in the pile of stuff that I was supposed to hand over if you came. I still can't figure why she said to call you and not Kel or a mystic but…"

Sam thought he knew but didn't say it since he knew his brother wouldn't want to hear it. So instead he just said, "We should check this out before it gets dark, Dean. Something tells me that we won't want to be in that forest at night."

"We're not leaving those damn woods without her, Sam," Dean returned firmly, having already made up his mind that he'd find his friend or some witch was burning today. "I…we're not losing anyone else," he finished, coughing to cover the way his voice had changed slightly and hoping that neither his brother nor the boy had caught it.

Shane Murray had caught the change but didn't comment on it since he heard the same infliction in Dean's voice as he'd heard in his Aunt's when she spoke of him. "My number is on the cell in case you find anything or need help."

Grabbing the duffel, Dean merely nodded before looking at his brother. "Let's go."

Sam waited until they were back in the Impala to turn. "Was promising that we'd find her a smart idea, Dean?" he asked slowly, knowing he needed to word this carefully. "It's been five days and…"

"We're finding Morgan, Sam. It's as simple as that," Dean cut him off with more force than he intended, sighing when he saw his brother pull back. "Losing Jo and Ellen was one thing but…I won't just give up on Morgan like that. She's too good to have allowed a simple witch to take her out so something's going on and we're going to find out what and then we're going to do what we do best and burn the bitch."

Deciding to stay silent, Sam dug the files back out to try to glean some information when a photo fell out of one…a photo he knew his brother still kept a copy of in his wallet. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" figuring his little brother was going to ask eventually, he kept his voice neutral while figuring out the directions on the paper.

"When did you give Morgan that necklace?" Sam asked, seeing the tension in Dean's arms as he maneuvered the car around a tight turn. "Did…Dad know?"

Not answering right away, Dean thought back to a time when he'd actually had good thoughts of his future. "No, Dad didn't know I'd given her Mom's necklace," he finally replied and then Sam had to listen hard to hear him. "I gave it to her up in the cabin one night after you'd fallen asleep…or finally fell asleep since you just did not want to go down that night."

"That the night you threatened to bury me in the snow until the thaw came if I didn't go to bed?" Sam remembered that night since he'd enjoyed driving his brother nuts. "Y'know that I only did it because I knew you wanted to be alone with her, right?"

"Shut up, Sam," his brother growled, briefly taking his eyes off the road to throw a glare to his almost smirking little brother when he saw Sam pale just before he shouted.

"Dean, look out!"

Jerking back to the road, Dean only had a split second to glimpse the form of the bloody young man in the road before the car went through him and then they were spinning out of control, straight for a thick patch of trees.

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Sorry for the delay in CH 2. It took an unexpected turn. Hmm, just what are the boys getting into? Is it a simple witch's curse or something more sinister? Will Dean find Morgan before he winds up in jail for getting on the Sherrif's bad side? All good questions. Come back to find out and remember…feedback and reviews are love for a writer's soul._


	3. Chapter 3

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Three**

"Shit!" fighting the wheel as the Impala skidded out of control toward the trees looming ahead, Dean Winchester finally managed to regain control in time to swerve. Slamming the brakes, he felt them slip but suddenly they were sitting still, neither brother saying anything for a long time until…

"What in the hell was that?" he demanded, whirling to look behind where they'd been while trying to avoid looking at the black tire marks where they'd been skidding but he didn't see any body, including the bloodied form he was swore they drove through. "Sam? You okay?"

Looking when he didn't get an immediate response, Dean's heart jumped when he saw Sam slumped against the door. "Sam!" reaching over, he was careful when he moved his brother toward him but frowned as he gripped Sam's neck between his hands, seeing a thin line of blood trailing from his temple. "Sammy?" he called, managing to keep any trace of the panic that was building out of his voice when he heard the soft moan. "Sam, wake up!"

Groaning, Sam slowly opened his eyes to stare at his brother. Blinking a few times to clear them, he was finally able to nod that he was awake but he noticed that Dean didn't let go right away. "What we hit?" he asked with a frown when he touched his forehead to find blood.

"You must have hit the window or the door when he lost control after we hit…I have no clue what the hell we hit," Dean admitted, easing back to open his door. "Sit still for a few minutes while I check it out."

Ready to argue that he was fine, Sam winced as his head reminded him that he might not be so he stayed quiet to open his own door and look around when something off in the trees caught his attention. "Dean?"

"Stay put, Sam," Dean ordered, ignoring how shaky his own legs were at that moment to jog back to where they'd started the skid to check out the site only to find nothing but skid marks and tire tracks. Recalling the image of the bloody young man, he slowly tried to bring back what little he'd noticed which considering things wasn't much when something off to the side of the road made his move closer. "What the hell?"

Kneeling down, his fingers ran over something that was laying as if just dropped and he scowled. Closing his fingers around the hilt of the knife, he didn't have to look at the blade to know that he still wouldn't be able to read the words engraved just like he hadn't been able to sixteen years earlier.

If running down a bloody ghost didn't put his hunter's instincts on high, just finding a knife that he knew Morgan wouldn't let go of easily just laying by the side of the road had it screaming. Then he heard his brother shouting for him.

"Sammy?" looking up to find his brother, he scowled more when he found that he was out of the Impala and on the edge of the woods. "What part of stay in the car didn't you get?" he demanded crossly, not caring if Sam took the tone wrong or not. He had too many people vanishing to want his little brother added to the damn list.

Pausing by the car to switch his knife out with the one he found, Dean also took enough time to get some things from the trunk. Figuring they could get the rest once they figured out what they were dealing with. "What's up?" he questioned, heading to where Sam was standing to slowly see the profile of a dark colored car.

A newer model metallic blue Chevy Corolla that appeared to have been parked there and then covered by foliage on purpose. Not something a local or casual tourist would think to do so that left one other option. "Is it hers?"

Noticing that his brother still didn't say their friend's name very often, Sam looked up from where he was kneeling on the passenger side to just hold up the registration. "She actually uses her real name on things."

"Yeah, because she doesn't need to lie quite as much as we do," Dean rolled his eyes but went over to the car. "Pop the trunk."

Hearing the lock pop, he opened the trunk lid to see what one normally would expect to find in a trunk but his eyes were searching for something as he slipped a penlight from the inside of his jacket. "No, you're not that normal," he whispered, running his fingers over the inside of the trunk until he finally felt the lip and uncovered a tiny control panel. "I thought you were a tech geek," he commented, knowing Sam was beside him.

Seeing the panel, Sam frowned. "What is that?" he wiped more blood away with his hand until he had a clean rag tossed at him. "Thanks."

"It's a lock just like we have in the trunk…only knowing Morgan, if we put the wrong code in the damn car will probably blow up," Dean scowled, thinking while his brother considered that before he punched in a set of numbers. "Fifty/fifty odds."

"What if…" Sam blinked when a sound was heard and the lid moved to reveal a hunter's dream in the way of weapons, hex bags, knives, a few books, maps and a journal. "What code did you put and how'd you know it?" he demanded, reaching for the map to see that it was one of the local area with several spots circled.

Dean didn't reply for a moment as he took in a couple items that brought back too many memories then he shrugged. "Lucky guess," he admitted, hearing Sam nearly choke on that as he went on more quietly. "It would've been either mine or your birthdays. She uses yours as the security code on her phone so I figured the trunk would be mine."

"Do I want to know how you knew that considering up until that mess in Oregon a few months ago neither of us had seen her in fifteen years?" Sam was more than curious then he gaped. "You saw her, didn't you?" he demanded, confused. "Dean?"

"Drop it now, Sam," he ordered, not wanting to discuss it but not for the reason his brother would think. Dean wasn't stupid by any means. If Sam knew the truth then he'd feel honor bound to blab to Morgan and then he'd never hear the end of it. "What's up with the map?"

"It's of the area," Sam replied with more than a little bitch-face thrown in. "Looks like she was trying to figure out some sort of pattern because each of these marks once combined form a…"

Dean could see the pattern forming. "A supposed witch, a map that forms an inverted pentagram with said witch's property smack in the center," he nodded. "Let's get our stuff and go check this place out."

"What about the ghost on the road?" Sam wondered, following his brother back to the Impala for their gear. "A past victim of the witch or something else?"

"No clue but if I find one scratch on my car that ghost is dust along with Miss Witch," his brother replied, handing him a shotgun while he loaded a duffel with other weapons but hissed as a sudden pain struck in the back of the head. "Damn!"

Hearing Sam's voice in the background, the elder Winchester blinked as he was suddenly deluged with flashes of bright light like fire, stone walls, blood dripping from cuts and…

"Dean!" again Sam yelled, hands gripping his brother's shaking shoulders as he kept him from falling forward. Recognizing the signs from when he used to have visions, he wasn't sure he liked the implications now. "What happened?"

Pushing away from Sam only to fall against the Impala, Dean pushed the nausea down but only barely. It had been years since he'd had one of those. He'd never told anyone about them because they only happened the year he was sixteen and usually Morgan had better control of them. If she was sending that then he knew they needed to hurry.

"C'mon," he muttered, reaching for the duffel to find that Sam had already grabbed it. "Your head alright for this?"

Scoffing at his brother's attempt to turn the concern away from himself, Sam merely nodded. "You never did tell me how you and she got that link," he commented casually.

"Yeah, and you never told me what happened between her and Dad so we're even," Dean retorted, stepping into the woods and instantly wishing they were hunting a Wendigo again since he sure as hell didn't like the feelings in these trees.

"Dean, I told you what I know of the fight they had at Bobby's," Sam argued, surprised that the trees seemed to enclose the area so much that to see anything close they'd have to use a flashlight. It almost felt like being closed in a room with nearly no light.

Looking back without pausing, Dean's hard eyes told his brother that wasn't the confrontation that he meant and the younger Winchester swallowed. "I meant, you never told me what happened after Jim called her, Sam. You were there so I know you know. Whatever the hell happened then is what really turned Dad on her since before he was mildly tolerant but after is when it all went to hell."

"I was twelve, Dean," Sam argued quietly, not believing they were having this conversation now. "You expect me to remember what happened back then after everything else that's gone on in my damn life?" he rolled his eyes. "I know you don't trust me much these days but…"

Whirling unexpectedly, Dean had Sam up against a tree a heartbeat later. Green eyes glittering in a myriad of emotions as anger, despair, loss, rage and fear all built up out of the blue. "Don't start that crap!" he snapped. "I never said I didn't trust you, Sam. We were getting past all of that and we will but…" seeing the shadows in his little brothers eyes told Dean that Sam was still blaming himself for Carthage and the way Dean was shutting him out again. "Let's just get moving so we can find Morgan and get the hell outta these woods."

Stepping back to release his grip, Dean missed the pain that flashed on Sam's face or the way he caught himself or the hand he pressed to his back before he followed. "What's that?" he pointed to a tree up ahead.

As Dean stopped to look, Sam stepped closer to trace a finger over what now appeared to be some sort of carved sign in the bark of the old tree. "Tree graffiti?" he blinked, shining his light over it to see that the carving wasn't large but he noticed the smirk on his brother's face. "What?"

"Morgan put it here," he replied, tracing the carving again to be sure he'd read it right before meeting Sam's confused eyes and adding. "174, your SAT number."

Sam blinked. "How'd she know my SAT score?" he wondered then shook his head. "How'd she know anything about us, I know, I know."

"Nosy little brat, is what she is, Sammy," Dean remarked easily but wondered just how much his friend did know even though Sam had shown him a section of her journal that clearly explained that she'd been watching them even after the final night at Bobby's. "Hell, I sure Morgan knew every damn move you made before you did and I can guarantee you that she probably had Jessica scoped out before you moved in with her."

Leaving his brother to dwell on that, what Dean didn't mention was that probably Jessica Moore had at least once received a visitor who left clear warning on how Sammy should be treated since he knew damn good and well that Morgan wouldn't have accepted any girl as good enough for his little brother.

"She knew we'd come, didn't she?" Sam caught up as the trees grew heavier and so did the atmosphere. "How?"

"Morgan's not stupid, Sam. She knew if she was in trouble and the kid called that one of us would come," Dean paused to kneel down. "She was probably thinking you but…"

"No way. Only you'd know the code to the car trunk or what the symbol meant," Sam argued, holding his light down at whatever his brother was examining. "How did you know the symbol? I mean, it's like you and Morgan had your own little language or something."

Looking down to hide his smirk, Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, when you have a nosy little brother always around you figure out ways to communicate without too many words. Now look at this," he got them back on track even though he didn't miss his brother's disgusted snort.

"I was not nosy," Sam muttered under his breath, kneeling down to see the impression in the mud. It was a footprint but one much larger than that of the young woman they were looking for. "You think someone else is out here?"

"We have a possible curse, a possible witch, a bloodied ghost who likes to make people, or at least us, wreck, and a lot of missing people…" Dean stood and finally noticed the trouble Sam seemed to be having getting back up. "Hey, you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," Sam hedged, hoping the distractions they had right then would keep his brother from seeing through that lie since he had no intention of wasting their time with what he was sure was a little injury. "I think I see a clearing ahead."

Moving ahead of Dean, Sam hoped it was because he was starting to feel too on edge in the woods. It was like he could feel the eyes of someone or something watching them and it was making him too uneasy. Thinking back to Dean's outburst a few moments ago, he wondered if something in the woods could make their emotions change or make their memories react oddly to force a distraction because he was suddenly having a very hard time keeping his anxiety under control.

Recalling all of the doubts that had been plaguing him recently to the pain and grief of losing two close friends to the fear he felt at possibly losing another friend he wasn't surprised when he felt himself breathing faster as all of his thoughts just came down at once.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean had grabbed his arm before he dropped to the ground. Noticing how pale and clammy his brother's skin was all of a sudden warned Dean what was happening. He just didn't know why it would happen now. "Sam, bad time for a panic attack," he warned, swearing to himself as he caught his brother's face. "Breathe with me and calm the hell down!"

It took a long moment before Sam was able to calm down enough to breathe and another before he was steady enough to allow his brother to pull him to his feet. "There's something in these woods, Dean."

"No joke, Sherlock," Dean muttered, keeping a steady hand on his little brother's shoulder as he nudged him out into the clearing just so they could both stop dead.

Taking in the house, the porch, the bright flowers it all seemed perfectly normal until they also took in the dead grass immediately around the house. "Huh," they both offered at the same time.

Dropping the duffel he'd taken from Sam, Dean tossed him the EMF detector while he stuck a flash of holy water in his jacket, freed the clasp from his knife sheath in case he needed it in a hurry and pulled his pistol. "Stay sharp."

Suddenly it was like it was back right after they'd gotten back together, after Dean had come for Sam in Stanford, after Jessica. They fell into a routine that was second nature to them. Taking in a possible haunted or cursed area and having to watch the other's back.

Crossing the dead yard slowly, Sam felt the same watching gaze but ignored it when something off to his left caught his eye. Whistling softly, he nodded once he knew he had his brother's attention.

"Oh, shit," Dean breathed as he knelt to pick the object up. Holding it so Sam could see it was a digital recorder, both brothers knew who it belonged to and finding it abandoned in a dead zone didn't make either very happy.

Winding it back, Dean hit play and both he and Sam listened to Morgan Harrison having a very disgusted conversation with herself even though Dean could pick up that she was basically leaving this for them…

" '_Okay, pay attention because this is the run down: In 1863, during the Civil War, Birkstown was founded by Elijah Murray. The town grew around a Church, a store, and the Murray home. On the outskirts of the town, deep in the forest lived Abigail Stone. A woman who supposedly killed her husband and infant daughter in a pact with the devil but I'm sure you know someone to ask if that's true. When a skirmish came close to her lands, a field unit of both Union and Confederate troops vanished and that's when locals who came too close also started vanishing. It wasn't until the son of Elijah Murray vanished that the town acted. They stormed the house in the woods to find corpses chained in the basement including the tortured corpse of Murray's son. They killed the woman who offered a curse that every twenty years, she'd return to wreck havoc on the town. After that every twenty years the disappearances begin again for a period of two weeks but nothing can be found to prove that it's Abigail and her curse…except the fact that her old house is still standing_,'" the young British woman's voice was clear on the recorder but tense as it went on. "'_Something about this all feels wrong, but I can't figure out what. It doesn't feel like it's all a witch's curse so just…'"_

Something suddenly seemed to be interfering with Morgan's voice as static was heard on the recorder until it cleared up and they heard the last thing that the girl herself heard and then nothing but deathly silence except for an evil laugh and a low growl that immediately put Dean's back up even as Sam was speaking.

"Hellhounds don't record, not even on digital. It wasn't a hellhound, Dean," he could see the tension now rippling through his brother and understood it since only his brother could honestly say he'd been tore to shreds by the things and come back to tell the tale. "It could've been a black dog or something like that but…"

"Either way, that growl didn't spell good things for our girl," his brother nodded tersely, closing his eyes for just a second and wishing he hadn't because it brought back the night his deal had come due and his encounter with the hounds from hell. Even the thought of a damn black dog being near Morgan scared him more than he wanted to admit. "What else did that thing say?"

Taking the recorder while Dean looked around the area more closely, Sam gave his brother a chance to settle down while he rewound to listen. "The plain voice warned that Morgan should've stayed out of what didn't concern her…but it…it knew she was a witch herself? How'd a ghost know about her powers?" he wondered aloud, listening closer now to the static and his frown got deeper. "Memories are demons?" he repeated, looking up to see what his brother was holding. "Oh."

Seeing what appeared to have been a flask of Holy Water that was now crushed and burn told Sam that this was perhaps more than a casual witch when his gaze caught sight of the 9mm Browning his brother was putting in the duffel. "Dean?"

"We get her back, then we burn this place because whatever is powerful enough to make the ground around this place a dead zone and to burn a blessed silver flask of holy water is bad," Dean remarked, recalling the black sticky mess that had been on the ground where he'd picked up the flask. "Keep watch a second," he pulled his phone out and hit speed dial, then waited for the expected voice on the other end. "Cas, got a question."

Sam's eyebrows shot up, not expecting his brother to involve Castiel in this since he doubted the Angel would approve of them doing something non-Apocalypse related when another sound close by caught his ear.

"Cas, what type of power could dead zone an area of land so much that holy water would make the ground bleed black?" Dean asked after he was sure he had the full attention of the Angel, narrowing his eyes. "No, I'm not telling you where we are because I don't need you involved…yet. Just give me your best…"

"Demonic energy of the highest order," Castiel replied with certainty, halfway wondering if he should mention that he was with Bobby Singer before deciding not to. "It takes a great deal of negative energy to make even a small part of land die but for a large amount to be dead and to bleed black when touched with anything holy then you are most certainly dealing with some form of demonic power that very few demons save Lucifer and a few others could achieve."

Not liking that, Dean eyed the silver knife he removed from his sheath. "Any type of holy object besides Holy Water have the same affect?" he asked casually, kneeling down while holding his phone against his shoulder. "I mean, like silver?"

"The silver would have had to have been blessed by a very powerful Holy man or engraved in either Latin or better yet Enochian but yes, silver would have the same affect," the Angel admitted, seeing Bobby frown at him and motion to find out what the boys were into. "Dean, where are you and Sam and why…?"

Touching the blade of the knife to the ground, Dean jerked it back instantly when he felt the rumble come up from the ground and into his arm. "Sonuvabitch!" he hissed, hearing the first snarl and whirling. "Shit! Gotta go, Cas. Black dogs that don't look happy," he disconnected before Castiel could reply and jumped to his feet to find his brother. "Sam!"

Not wanting to be around to hear the argument he figured his brother and their Angel pal would be getting into soon, Sam wondered closer to the house in search of what he kept hearing when he noticed a wet spot near the steps. Kneeling down to touch it, he instantly knew it was blood and prayed it wasn't that of his friend when he heard the sound again…softer this time but recognizable as cries of pain from within the house.

Looking up to call Dean, he spotted the first of three large black dogs that had just appeared even as his brother was running towards him. "Those are…"

"Yeah and we aren't prepared for Black Dogs, Sam," Dean snapped, jerking his brother to his feet and prepared to shove him up the steps when his hand landed on Sam's back and felt the wetness through his jacket even before his brother shushed a pained cry. "Damn it! Get inside!" not giving Sam a chance to argue, he pulled him up the steps and into the house without a thought at how bad an idea that probably was.

"You know this is probably a cursed house that was just waiting for us to step inside it, right?" Sam shot back, back searing now and making the room spin while the door was slammed shut even as the first dog banged into it. "That door won't hold for long."

Holding up a can of salt that he'd pulled from the duffel, Dean quickly salted the door and both front windows to hopefully buy them time. "Did you plan on telling me that you were bleeding?" he asked tightly, refusing to grit his teeth in frustration. "How bad and from what?"

"It's not an issue," Sam argued, not wanting this right then when he knew they'd just stepped into something bad. "I heard something from in here but couldn't tell from where."

Satisfied that they wouldn't become dogfood right away, Dean looked around to see that the inside of the house hadn't been quite as shielded as the outside but it was preserved pretty well. Too well for a place that should've been cinders by know. "According to Morgan's little history lesson, the bodies were found in the basement so that's probably where we should look but what Cas said worries me, Sam," he admitted. "No witch from the 19th Century should have been able to conjure this much negative energy without some kind of help or something."

"Well, we suspected that so let's go check the basement and…" Sam stopped in mid-sentence as a scream tore through the air and both Winchesters exchanged glances. "Dean…"

Hearing the unexpressed caution in his brother's voice, Dean fought against his most basic urge to move since he'd recognized the voice despite the pain it held. "Rocksalt, silver or Holy water, Sam," he gritted, gripping the knife tightly while holding his .45 in the other as Sam slowly opened the basement door which was heavier than it should have been.

"Dean, this door isn't from the 19th Century. This was put in later," he commented, beginning to come up with more questions than they had time for right then as the foul stench hit from the basement and both young men nearly gagged. "Be careful," Sam hissed in warning, covering from the rear while taking the basement steps slowly.

Fighting the basic urge to laugh at that warning, Dean stepped on one step lightly to be sure it would hold but scowled when he realized the damn thing was too sturdy to be that old. Assured that he and Sam wouldn't be falling through the steps, he took them faster but still cautiously since he didn't know what was waiting in the basement.

Looking back at Sam, he motioned for his brother to go to the right as soon as they hit bottom while he'd take the left and much larger, more open side. Seeing Sam's patented bitch-face even in the near blackness, he knew his brother didn't agree but would do it.

Stepping off the last step, Dean waited for Sam to get down before touching his shoulder to engage eye contact. "Shoot anything that isn't me or Morgan," he whispered tightly, going with the safe plan of shoot first and ask stupid questions later. "And be careful."

Nodding, the look the brothers shared was an easy 'you too' message since both knew the other would have their back. It was what else was waiting in the dark that worried them.

Letting the barrel of the shotgun lead the way, Sam moved slowly. Hearing sounds like water dripping when he knew there wasn't any told him that something or someone was trying to mess with their heads even before he took another step to run into…

"Sam."

Freezing at the soft voice, Sam just lifted the shotgun to fire and let the round of rocksalt to force the image of his long dead girlfriend out of sight except when he looked again, Jessica was still standing in front of him wearing the same Smurf T-shirt and shorts she had the night in Stanford.

"Go to hell," he gritted, getting tired of everyone using Jess's image against him. "You're not her. Jess is dead and buried and…"

"Dead, yes. Buried? Not so much since how can you bury ashes?" the image smiled kindly, looking around the cold and dank basement. "Have you thought how much pain the people in your life suffers for you?"

Refusing to accept the image or her words, Sam turned to one side to continue on when he felt cold fingers grab his arm. "Your mother died for you, I died for you, your brother could have died how many times for you?" she tsked lightly. "You know, the term memories are demons really do apply to you, Sam since how many memories do you have that eat you up? I mean, it can't be easy to know how often your big brother took a hit to protect you. You remember being so selfish and running away. You remember what your Daddy did to Dean because of it just like you know that if that hadn't happened your brother wouldn't have lost his little friend all those years ago and Dean actually might have been happy," she taunted softly against his ear. "The pretty little witch could have protected you both so many times just like she could've saved Dean's life without your Daddy dying but John refused and that nasty fight that you witnessed between them when you were a boy, you haven't told Dean all of it because you know what your Dad…"

"." Sam whirled with the demon killing knife they still had of Ruby's to plunge it into the heart of the image of Jessica only to have it dissolve with laughter. "Damn it," he swore, knowing the knife would've killed a demon but this thing just vanished so if it was a ghost or a witch then it had more power than it should have when a more disturbing thought formed.

Yes, it was time for the curse to start again but why suddenly would a victim be targeted that would draw Morgan into the mix? He'd wondered that since he'd listened to the voice recorder and heard the voice call his friend a witch since very few people knew she had abilities much less a ghost.

"Involve Morgan, involve Dean," he whispered, feeling sick from the wound he'd gotten back in Carthage that he hadn't mentioned to his brother or Bobby and the headache he'd gained when the car skidded wasn't helping. "Shane said that Morgan had an encounter in New Orleans. Dean thinks it was probably Zachariah. The Angels can't find us unless they have help, they must know by now about Dean's past with her so…oh shit."

Grabbing the wall to keep from falling, Sam knew he had to find his brother. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that this was way more than a witch out for revenge. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean had started to turn toward the back of the much larger than he'd first thought basement when he caught a sidelong glance of something and all further thoughts fled his mind. "Oh, my God."

Skipping caution for the sake of speed, he moved quickly to the center of what must have been the original basement and ignored the iron chains that still hung on the walls so he could concentrate on the large oblong stone in the center of the room that held one of the few other people in his life, other than his brother, that he still cared for.

"Morgan?" Dean swallowed the words that wanted to come as he neared the stone the young woman was bound to.

After close to six days of captivity by whatever, Morgan Harrison looked more dead than alive. Bound by chains that Dean knew did not look too old, she was a sickly white. Noticing the long cuts on her arms and the dripping blood that had pooled into bowls on either side, he felt this temper spark even as he was gently feeling along her neck for a pulse.

Finding it beating weakly, he let out a breath before noticing the bruises on her neck and face that was more in line with a beating while chained than in a fight. The shredded shirt and the welts on pale skin underneath also warned him that the girl had been hurt after capture and by something more than some damn spirit.

Hearing a soft whisper made him snap back to the present, pushing his raging temper aside to concentrate of getting the goddamn chains off before he found what had done this and kicked their asses six-ways to Sunday. "Easy," he soothed, surprised that it was so easy to fall back into a tone he'd only use with his much younger brother when Sam was sick or hurt or…Morgan.

For her part, the pain, the shock, the cold and whatever else she'd been hit with wasn't enough to make her not tense at the feel of hands. Tensing suddenly against the cold, unbreakable chains, she struggled to see but only saw shadows right then.

"No…not…get…" she tried to cry out when a gentle finger was pressed against dry, split and swollen lips and this time the voice managed to pierce the hazy fog she'd been living with since that day in the yard.

"Morgan…damn it, Angel, stop before you make yourself bleed out," Dean spoke softly but firmly in the hopes that she'd at least recognize something and was relieved when he felt her stop the weak struggles to go limp again. "That's good, now listen to me. I'm gonna get these damn things off but try not to move," he urged, looking around for something to stop the more serious bleeding but finding nothing. "Sam!"

Screwing the need for silence right then, Dean wanted his brother there to not only watch his back while he was basically leaving himself wide open for attack and because he knew that if he could get Morgan half-way coherent then she'd listen to Sam.

"Dean! Dean, we need to go!" Sam hurried around the corner, gasping for breath and fighting to keep his stomach down.

"Yeah, little brother, I know that but first I need to get these off or we're going nowhere fast," Dean returned tightly, swearing when he couldn't get even the first chain picked and feeling his friend tensing again. "Damn, Sam you can pick a lock faster," he muttered, hating to admit that fact out loud. "See if you can get these off of her."

Trying to calm down, it took Sam a second to focus and when he did he nearly lost his stomach again. "God, Dean, is she…"

"She's alive, Sammy," his brother assured him, easing up to the top of the stone to kneel down so he'd be more at eye level when he noticed cloudy blue eyes trying to open. "She's been cut and is losing too much blood, so we need those off, now. Can you do that, little brother?"

Despite the calm tone, Sam still heard the undercurrent of fear in his older brother's deep voice. He also noticed how Dean's hands shook briefly but when they reached to stroke Morgan's long tangled auburn hair back, they were steady.

Understanding what Dean was asking, Sam merely nodded and pushed back his own pain to take the lockpick to the first lock while he struggled to ignore his friend's injuries and what she must have gone through.

"Shh, easy. It's just Sammy getting those off," Dean was soothing, taking his jacket off in order to rip a sleeve off of his long sleeved button down shirt so he could use it to wipe the blood off of one arm and see how deep the cuts were. "Sonuvabitch," he bit the curse off as much as he could when he saw that while the long thin cuts on her arms weren't bad the wrist cuts were and quickly tied the material from his shirt around those to hopefully slow the bleeding.

Sam felt the first chain holding Morgan's right arm come loose so he gently removed the cuff while not so gently throwing it across the room. As he went to work on the left side he noticed that Dean had gently enfolded her hand into his. Even as he listened to his brother talk softly, much more softly than he was used to Dean being recently, he noticed that his brother's long fingers seemed to be moving gently against her palm and he realized what he was doing now.

"That's how you two talk without anyone knowing. How you both could be on the same page totally when it came to ganging up on me without saying a word," he mused quietly, not having to lift his head to know that his brother hadn't stopped moving his fingers but had looked toward him. "Just like you know what that symbol on the tree was, you have a special sign language or something like it that allows you to talk to each other without me or Bobby or Pastor Jim knowing."

"College Boy still thinks he so smart, Angel," Dean joked, his voice more husky than he normally would have allowed his brother to hear but he was fighting on two fronts now. Keeping Morgan calm while trying to maintain his tough, no-emotion or chick-flick moments persona to Sam. He figured he'd toss the latter and call do-over later. "How'd you think I got anywhere with her when you were always around, Sammy? Kinda hard to talk when my little brother was always chattering or getting into mischief that I swear you just did to annoy me," he sighed. "She didn't like using the mental link too much. I think she was afraid of it or of Dad finding out so we only used it when touching wasn't an option…though I tried to make sure that touching was always an…" he stopped, shaking his head. "Too weak right now to use that, babe,"

Guessing that even hurt, scared and in shock, Morgan probably didn't want him to know what his brother had been doing at sixteen, Sam covered his smile as he went back to work on the final wrist cuff to finally feel it snap free before he moved to the locks binding her legs.

Giving his brother and friend what little privacy he could right then, Sam concentrated on picking the locks when he noticed the engraving on these. Running a finger over the markings, he could make out a little of it and bit his lip. He'd studied enough books and such to know Enochian when he saw it and if these bindings were engraved with that language then his hunch went up another notch.

"Dean, she can't use her powers even if she were strong enough," he murmured quietly, feeling her jerk when he accidentally brushed against her leg. "These chains have an Enochian binding spell on them."

Looking up quickly at that comment, the question burning his tongue fell off as he slowly understood the meaning and felt his temper spark briefly until the hand he was holding tensed. "It's all good," he promised tightly, easing up to sit on the edge of the stone slab to gently ease her up until she was leaning back against his chest. "It's all good…and I'm going to kill that son of a bitch personally."

Now more awake even if her eyes still weren't clear to fully see, Morgan could feel Dean next to her. She felt his fingers moving in a familiar way and soon recognized the words he was signing as mindless babble just to soothe her, to keep her calm while Sam worked. Unwilling to speak for fear of crying which was something she was not willing to do in front of the younger Winchester, she did hear the anger in Dean's tone.

Fingers stiff from days of not using them and the blood loss, she did finally get them to slowly move against his to painfully sign something back.

"No, I do not think I'm going to let this drop," Dean snorted, reaching with one arm for his leather jacket which he carefully wrapped around her since he could feel her cold she was but knowing that Morgan probably wasn't even aware of her bad she was now shaking. "You tell me a crazy witch did this then I might after I salt and burn the bitch but no damn witch is gonna have chains engraved with Enochian or…"

"Dean," Sam merely looked up, shifting his eyes to their friend before back to him in a typical Sammy way of saying 'shut up until later'.

It took longer than either Winchester liked to get the last chains off but finally Sam tossed the last one away and as soon as he had, his brother was moving to quickly but still very carefully shift the young woman into his arms in order to get her off the slab.

"Okay, we need to move," he declared, noticing the thin layer of sweat on his brother's face. "Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam lied but he wasn't going to distract Dean anymore than he was and he knew they needed to get out. "You have her?"

Knowing that Morgan was in no shape to walk, Dean had already decided he'd handle that but after seeing his brother he was wondering about giving Morgan to Sam so he could cover their escape but Sam was already moving ahead of him up the steps.

"Yeah, I know he's lying and no, I don't know how bad he's hurt," he sighed, feeling the shaking fingers move against his chest as she spoke to him in the only way she could right then. "Just close your eyes. I'm taking you outta here and…your brother probably wants to toss my ass in jail by the way."

If Morgan had any strength right then, he knew the comment he'd get but just by the way she curled into him told Dean how bad she was hurting so he stopped the jokes and wisecracks to go up the steps slowly until he heard the first blast of the shotgun. "Sam?" he shouted. "Sammy, what the hell are you…oh, shit."

Coming up the steps, Dean saw the front door open and his brother on the porch firing at several rather large looking black dogs. "Shit! Sam, get back inside!"

"I switched rounds, we can get past them, through the woods to the Impala, Dean," Sam countered, firing again before looking at his brother. "Take Morgan and go, I'll cover you."

Morgan had tensed but before she could think of a way to warn Dean, he was already shaking his head furiously. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, seeing a thin silhouette of a woman on the outskirts of the yard. "We don't have anything to ward of black dogs and those things would be on us as soon as we got in those trees. Take her while I call Cas or…"

"No time to call Cas and that probably wouldn't be a good plan right now," Sam shot back, firing another blast to strike a dog to send it screaming back. "You see? Just go. They won't enter the treeline, Dean. Those dogs are bound to this section of land and I doubt they'd have wasted more in the trees." seeing his brother about to refuse, Sam finally shouted at him. "She's bleeding out, Dean! You need to get Morgan clear and to a damn hospital. Do you seriously want to waste time arguing with me about this?"

Barely swallowing the retort that came to mind, Dean's eyes shifted to the barely conscious young woman he was holding to his suddenly very determined little brother. "You stick right with me, Sam," he warned, hating this plan even as Morgan seemed to be trying to tell him something only to have him shush her. "Little brother has a plan…of course the last time I followed one of his…" he stopped but not before he saw Sam's face drop. "Sammy, I'm…I didn't mean…"

"Yeah, I know, Dean," Sam forced a tight smile only to add in a whisper once his brother turned. "That's why I won't see it happen again."

Still not caring for this idea and fully expecting to be pounced on as soon as he stepped off the porch, Dean was surprised to see the dogs jumping but only so far and they always retreated at a blast from Sam's weapon. "Well, what d'ya know?" he muttered when they were about three feet from the tree line. "That actually worked and…" a sudden sharp rap to his chest had him looking down to see that Morgan's eyes were wide and looking over his shoulder at something.

Turning to glance at whatever she was seeing, Dean felt his stomach drop and his blood pressure explode. "Sam! What in the goddamn hell are you doing?" he demanded, finally seeing that his little brother wasn't directly behind him as he had thought but still halfway between Dean and Morgan and the now gathering pack of dogs. "Sammy? Get your ass in gear here!"

"…Dean…" Morgan's voice was a whisper but the fear was plain as she'd seen what Sam had planned from the start but couldn't tell his brother.

Suddenly understanding what she was silently saying, Dean swore violently. "Sam! Don't you do this! Move it, now!"

"I said I'd cover you and I will, Dean," the younger Winchester called out; pain in his voice and suddenly Dean noticed how pale his brother seemed. How unsteady and shaking. "They won't enter the tree line because I won't let 'em. I won't lose you and Morgan like we lost Jo and Ellen. I won't fail you like that a second time." he declared, refusing to meet his brother's eyes because he didn't want to see the pain or disappointment in them like he'd been seeing. "I can make it right finally."

Feeling panic seeping in, Dean struggled for control or for divine intervention in the form of Castiel who he had stupidly not told where they were. "Make what right?" he demanded, at a loss for the reason behind this plan. "You didn't kill Ellen and Jo, Sam. You didn't know the Colt wouldn't work. You…"

"It was my fault you got hurt."

Those words stopped Dean cold and made Morgan tense in his arms but only she thought she understood why he was doing this and wished for the strength to talk to Sam…or smack him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was lost and he wanted them gone but leaving Sam wasn't an option for him. "I got a concussion when Lucifer tossed me…"

"You got hurt when I ran away to Flagstaff!" Sam shouted, emotions not showing on a boy who was always heavy with them. "It was my fault Dad hurt you. He was angry and beat you. You were hurt so bad when Dad took us to Pastor Jim's that Jim called Morgan. If you hadn't been hurt so bad she wouldn't have gotten so angry at Dad and went to him and that's how he found out about her powers. If he hadn't found out about them then he wouldn't have threatened her and us and she wouldn't have left you and you would've been happy." finally taking a breath, Sam didn't seem aware of the tears on his face. "She wouldn't have left, Dean. I can't say I still wouldn't have left for school but at least when I had, you still wouldn't have been alone. It was my fault."

Shocked into silence, Dean was fighting to find any words when he heard the deep growls beginning. "Sammy…" he didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know what the hell had happened in those days after their Dad left them in Blue Earth, Montana. He'd passed out there but woke up days later in a cabin in the Nevada mountains and neither Jim nor Morgan had ever answered him clearly. "Sammy, please. We can get outta this but…"

"You can get out. Get her out, Dean. I'll be fine," Sam shrugged with a laugh that was too shaky to be anything less than full shock. "It's not like they can kill me. Lucifer won't let me die, remember. Go."

Feeling Morgan trying to talk, to beg Sam not to do this, Dean closed his eyes and made a choice he knew he'd regret if he couldn't make it right. "You fight your way back to the house, seal the door and wait for me," he snapped, making his voice tougher than he felt like. "I'll be back for you, little brother," he promised, catching Sam's watery sad eyes for a brief moment. "I'll be back."

"I know, Dean," he nodded, swallowing suddenly to toss out what he'd wanted to say to his brother since he'd returned from Hell. "I…I love you."

Silently glad he'd halfway turned so Sam couldn't see the tear tracks on his face, Dean forced a nod before returning a tightly voiced. "Yeah, me too, Sammy."

Sam watched as his brother and friend disappeared from sight before quickly wiping his face and turning to face the spirit woman. "You aren't controlling them," he remarked, lifting the gun to fire even as he did move back to the cover of the house and had nearly made it when he'd fired at one creature when another slipped in under his blind spot and he felt the teeth sink into his thigh.

Covering the scream that wanted to come because if Sam knew one thing he knew his brother would turn around if he heard that, he slammed the butt of the weapon into the snout of the dog. Forcing it to yelp and let go as he fired again while managing to make it into the house, shut the door but knew it wouldn't keep them out long. He just hoped it was long enough to buy Dean and Morgan the time to get clear.

Leaning against the door, he dragged his torn leg up to check the damage and saw it was bad. Even if it wasn't, being bitten by a black dog and not getting immediate help would make him too sick to react on top of the infection he already had.

Hearing the door crack, he rolled away from it just as it caved in to allow two of the things to pounce right at him.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, preparing to feel razor sharp teeth when his mind gave in to darkness.

Halfway through the trees, both Dean and Morgan heard the shotgun firing and then it gave way to an eerie silence that he refused to accept meant what he knew it did. Knowing he could turn around to go back, the older Winchester also knew if he did that now he'd probably lose both his brother and Morgan.

Not certain how he found the way back to the Impala, Dean released a shuddering breath when he cleared the trees to see the shiny black car parked where they'd left her.

"Easy," he whispered, struggling to open the door while not causing her more pain Dean eased Morgan down on the back seat. Letting his hand rest briefly on her face and felt both the fever and the tears when her eyes opened to lock on his. "He'll be fine, Morgan," he whispered, telling himself that his voice was shaking because of the run through the woods and not because of the tears he refused to let fall at the thought of his little brother dying. "I'm getting you someplace safe and then I'm going back for him." he stated, leaning in to brush his lips over her forehead as he had once before getting behind the wheel.

Putting the keys in, Dean had to sit still to will his hands to stop shaking before he could turn the key when a sound seemed to echo from deep, deep within those dark trees. A scream that tore both heart and soul of a man who thought he'd lost both in Hell.

"Hang on, Sammy…"

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Will Sam survive the black dogs or will something else come for him? Will Dean get back to his brother in time or will he encounter more troubles than even he could expect? What exactly did go on during the time when Dean was sixteen that Sam blames himself for? So many questions. Come back for Chapter 4 to find out some answers. Look for surprises, more big black puppies and Teen!Chester flashbacks! I know and I'll update soon, promise._

_Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome since they feed the muse._

He was only a small ways into the thick trees before they both heard the shotgun blasts and then suddenly nothing but deathly silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Memories & Demons**

**A/N: **_FYI, this chapter gets a mild little warning attached for mentions of abuse and violence, nothing too graphic. Thanks!_

**Chapter Four**

Sharp teeth, glowing eyes, large ferocious bodies pounding through the now caved in front door was what Sam Winchester was seeing through a haze of pain, shock and he wasn't stupid enough to deny…fear, as well.

Despite it all he was relieved to know that his older brother and their mutual friend would be safe from the animals and also safe from those who wanted to use them. Sam wished that he and Dean had fixed all their problems. He wished he wouldn't die knowing his brother was disappointed in him or ashamed but he was also glad he could die knowing that he had at least tried to make up for the crap he'd caused Dean to suffer growing up.

Recalling the stories of how a person's life was supposed to flash in front of their eyes before death, he was surprised when he flashed on the very memory that had started what he felt was his deepest failure. Since, in Sam's view, it had been his childish selfishness that had caused the problem to begin with.

**Flashback, Blue Earth, Montana, 1995:**

"John, what the hell's going on?" Jim Murphy was demanding furiously, having just finished next week's sermon when his quiet house was turned upside down by the arrival of a furious John Winchester and his two sons.

If the Holy man turned Hunter was honest, he'd admit that he was less concerned by John's radical behavior than he was with the condition of the two boys.

Twelve-year-old Sam looked pale and withdrawn as he stayed glued next to the couch where his older brother had been more or less tossed by their Father. Normally an energetic and chatty boy, now he seemed quiet as he kept his head down and his shaggy head of brown hair obscured his face so Jim couldn't see the hazel eyes that were normally a window to the boy's soul.

It was sixteen-year-old Dean that truly worried him. Seeing John practically dragging the boy inside to dump him on the couch was one shock but when he finally saw how badly bruised Dean's face was, to the way his lip was busted and swollen, to the way his one eyes was already swelled shut and the other didn't look much better. He could only guess how bad the boy was hurt elsewhere and what the hell had happened to him.

"John, talk to me," he urged, finally grabbing the other man's shoulder to make him stop from where he was tossing the boy's duffels inside the house. "What's happening and what in God's name happened to Dean?"

Stopping to finally look at his friend, John Winchester's eyes showed fury and disgust. None of the concerned parental worry that Jim had been expecting.

"It doesn't matter what happened to him," he snapped, throwing a glare toward his boys before looking back at Jim. "All that matters is that you keep both of them here and that you don't let that one the hell outta your sight even for a goddamn second!" he pointed purposely at Sam when he said that, eyes cold. "I don't care if you lock 'em both in their rooms just keep them here."

Blinking at the tone, Jim couldn't make sense of this sudden change. "John, tell me what's going on," he urged calmly, hoping to settle the man but soon seen that wasn't going to happen soon. "I will not treat the boys like prisoners in my house. Where are you going and what happened to Dean?"

"I have to go help Bobby and Caleb on a hunt and I can't trust Dean to watch his brother anymore since clearly he's not any good at that simple job when a twelve year old slips past him," John threw back bitterly, going over to kneel down in front of Sam.

But instead of the usual gruff but still fatherly goodbye Jim had witnessed countless times before, he watched in growing disbelief when John's fingers gripped the much smaller boy's shoulder's almost painfully to shake him. "You listen to every word Jim says while you're here and you damn well better not try that crap you pulled ever again or this time you'll get the same lesson your brother did, understand me, Sam?" he demanded, giving the boy a harder than necessary shove back as he stood to regard his eldest. Before Jim could speak, he gripped a shoulder that the boy was clearly favoring when Jim heard the small cry of pain that broke free. "Try to actually do the damn job I trained you for, Dean. I also want you on your feet and training by tomorrow. None of this lying around crap! You brought it on yourself so suck it up and get past it!"

If Jim was horrified by what he was seeing in this exchange, hearing the painfully thin voice grit out a simple 'Yes, sir,' nearly broke his heart.

"Sam, stay in here with Dean," Jim ordered as he rushed out of his house after the boy's father. "John!" he snapped, no longer fooling around or willing to be patient. "What in the hell was that?" he demanded.

Ever since the first time that Jim Murphy had met John Winchester he had known that John was a bad choice to be a Hunter. He'd gotten into it for revenge, which wasn't out of the ordinary. However, his temper and the way he was obsessed with certain things made him a dangerous choice and Jim had cautioned him on his temper, his too rigid ways and certainly with the way he was bringing up his boys. But the one thing that Jim had never doubted, despite the fact that he had wanted to cheerfully throttle the man a few times, was that he knew John loved his sons. That was until today. Right then, he didn't know what to think.

Pausing by the Impala, John slowly turned to his friend but the rage made his already chiseled face even more hard. "I was on a hunt. I'd left the boys as usual but I finished early to go home to find that Dean had let his twelve year old brother scam him and had run off," he scowled while glaring back at the house. "He'd used all of his saved money to buy a damn bus ticket to Flagstaff. So, I went and dragged his ass home. Now, just keep them locked up until I'm done helping Bobby and Caleb and then I'll pick 'em up."

"John, what happened to…John!" Jim yelled but the Impala was already peeling out of his driveway in a cloud of dust. "Wonderful," he scowled after the retreating car to go back inside only to see that Sam had indeed stayed where he'd been standing since entering the house though he was glancing nervously at the couch where his brother was trying to curl up.

Knowing he could probably demand the answers out of Sam or lecture him on the dangers of running away, one look at the boy's downward casted head, the way his mop of shaggy hair covered his face told Jim that raising his voice to Sam now would be like kicking a puppy when it was down. So instead, he walked over to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder only to be shocked when he felt him nearly recoil at the touch.

"Okay, Sam, what say you grab the bags if you can while I get your brother upstairs to his room?" he suggested lightly, knowing he needed to take one thing at a time and right then seeing how bad the older boy was hurt ranked at the top of his list.

Seeing Sam merely nod before moving to grab the bags he noticed that he seemed to be having trouble with his right arm since he was using the left more. "Sam, on second thought, leave those there and go open the door to the room you and Dean usually share," he decided as he then reached down to carefully ease Dean up to a sitting position. "Up you go, Dean," he urged, sliding an arm around his neck when he heard the groan and soon realized the boy's one shoulder was probably dislocated so he switched sides.

"S'kay, Sir," Dean finally manage to get out, wincing as pain shot from his arm down to his side but managing to hide it. "I…I can make it."

"Right," Jim nodded, not releasing his hold as he steadied the teenager before he even attempted the trip up the stairs. "What was the name of the Wendigo, vengeful spirit or other unnamed creatures that tossed you around?" he asked easily, not liking the way the boy's breathing was labored when they finally reached the top of the steps. Jim was glad to see that Sam had thought to pull the covers back on the bed so that he could just gently ease him onto the soft mattress.

Hearing the way Dean struggled not to scream when he was laid flat warned Jim that the sixteen year old, that he had personally seen take risks no sane adult would, was definitely hurt in more places than he'd first believed but then he had other issues to deal with…like the obviously frightened little brother.

"De?" Sam was standing on the other side of the room, backed up against the closet door as if he really wanted to be inside the darkened little area. "Pastor Jim…is he…help him?"

Knowing that Sam normally didn't use the nickname for his brother unless he was scared, Jim swore to beat the hell out of their father for not telling him everything as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Dean's going to be fine, Sam," he hoped he was lying to the boy even as Dean was shifting himself so that he could try to find his brother.

"I'm…fine, Sammy," his voice though betrayed otherwise when he was forced to bury his face in the pillow as the Pastor touched his back and agony exploded. "Argh!"

"Dean, I need to know how bad you're hurt," Jim was anxious now after lifting the shirt up to find nothing back deep welts and bruises all over the boy's back and as he carefully went to turn him onto his side he felt something go cold inside when he saw what he prayed wasn't what it looked like. "Dean, did you get hurt on a hunt?" he asked tightly, feeling the thin body shake as shock began to come but after a couple seconds he caught the shake of a head. "Dean, I need you to nod just once for me. Did your Father do this to you?"

The silence in the room was deafening until finally the older man saw Dean's head move shakily in a nod before he hissed in pain and seemed to go limp as the pain finally made him pass out, leaving one scared little brother and one very angry Pastor.

Struggling to not say every swear word he knew right then, Jim Murphy shifted to look to where Sam was still standing and he knew the smaller boy understood why his brother was hurt. "Sam, go downstairs and get a snack out of the kitchen," he instructed calmly, wanting him out of the bedroom while he got Dean undressed to see just what the hell John had done. "Dean'll be fine, Sam. He's just sleeping. Go downstairs."

Sam looked like he might refuse but then his father's orders came back and he seemed to go even paler, nodding as he finally slipped from the room to leave Jim alone with his anger and a choice.

"Damn you, John," he muttered darkly, suspecting that John might have been a bit too rough in his discipline of the boys since he'd noticed bruises on Dean before and Bobby Singer had growled more than once about blowing John's brains out the second he saw more than a casual one that couldn't be explained away easily. But to see, to know that John had beaten his eldest son, had kicked him in the ribs enough to leave the print that he had seen…Jim might have thought better about his choice if he had known what to do but Sam was shell shocked and Dean would fight to protect Sam rather than take care of himself.

He could handle Dean's physical injuries but he wasn't sure about the mental wounds that were probably also raw, not to mention the fear that Sam had. Keeping a gentle hand on the unconscious young man's shoulder, Jim reached for his phone and after a second of hesitation dialed a number, then waited only two rings to hear the wary voice on the other end.

"How fast can you get to my place?" he asked casually, trying to find a good way to say this that wouldn't incite a violent reaction but not coming up with anything except… "Dean and Sam are here with me and…I'm not sure about Sam but…Dean's had the hell beat outta him and…hello?" he heard the dial tone and could guess what the next thing he'd hear would be.

Downstairs, Sam had picked up an orange but was sitting on the edge of the sofa with it looking at the spots of his brother's blood that stained the cushion. Wiping a hand under his nose, he fought not to cry since he knew it was his fault for running away that Dean had been hurt when he felt something like a pop in the air and then…

"Sammy?"

Jerking his tear soaked hazel eyes up, Sam blinked a second before he gave in to the urge and ran, throwing his arms around Morgan's waist. Holding on tightly while talking too fast about what he'd done and about Dean until finally the young girl, who was only two years older than Sam, managed to get him back on the sofa to sit beside him.

"Okay, Sammy, how bad is Dean hurt?" she asked, pleased that she was keeping her voice calm for the younger boy despite the anger she'd felt at Jim's call. "Are you hurt?"

Sam seemed to jerk at the last question, biting his lower lip before finally taking off his heavy jacket to allow her to help him roll his sleeve up to show the rather large hand print bruise on his upper arm but it was the bruise on his neck that she frowned at.

"Did you get these by whoever hurt Dean?" she asked him, absently peeling the orange for him as he nodded hesitantly.

"Daddy was angry cause I ran away from De so he…he hurt him cause of me, Morgan!" the boy responded, tears falling but his eyes had dropped to the orange pieces in his hand and he missed the way her eyes flashed dangerously.

"Your Dad hurt Dean, Sammy?" she asked tightly, rubbing a gentle hand over his shoulder before looking upstairs at his nod. While she wanted to go straight upstairs, Morgan knew that calming Sam down needed to come first so she sat with the upset pre-teen until the exhaustion and fear he'd been hiding won out and he fell asleep on the couch.

Keeping a hand on his shoulder a moment longer, Morgan whispered softly to him before taking the steps two at a time. "Murphy!" she snapped, stopping dead in the doorway and while Jim might have stopped himself from calling John Winchester every name available, the fourteen-year-old girl did not. "Winchester did that to him?" she demanded tightly.

Jim had taken the time to get Dean out of the bloody clothes and had just started to wash out the bruises, cuts and welts to get a better idea of how bad the boy was hurt when he heard his name, felt the change in the atmosphere and knew Morgan had arrived. "You saw Sam."

It wasn't a question so she waved it away. "He's got a bruise on his arm and one on his neck but nothing like this," she came closer and felt her stomach flip. "What the bloody hell happened to make the old man flip on him?" she wanted to know.

Jim had always known that Dean had been curious as to how he had known Morgan since as a hunter he should have been looking at her as a possible foe. He'd never told the boy that he'd known the young British girl since she'd been a child. If anything, Jim was probably one of the few people who knew all about her past, her friends, and her abilities so he hadn't been surprised when he'd first seen her and Dean together. He'd just been worried about hiding her abilities from John.

He wasn't sure how many other times the teenagers had seen one another though he recalled John talking about Dean's new friend. A highly suspicious man, John had his doubts about the girl but couldn't find anything to really make him doubt her intentions or make him see her as a threat…until maybe now.

"Sam said his Dad hurt Dean because of him," she had knelt down beside the bed to lightly card her fingers through Dean's limp, sweat soaked hair. "How bad is he, Jim?"

"He's hurt bad, Morgan," he replied after a second, rinsing the rag out again only to see her hand move down the unconscious teen's shoulder, to touch his back and he knew by the way her blue eyes seemed to darken that she was seeing the fight that caused these injuries. "Morgan…" he called warningly. "Using those are risky if you're not…"

Seeing the dingy motel room in which her friend had been tossed around in like a rubber ball, she not only heard the fight, heard the words John screamed at his son, she also felt every punch, kick, and fist but when she saw the belt strike the boy's back that's when she pulled back.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, absently brushing the wetness out of her eyes as Dean twisted restlessly as pain chased him even in uneasy sleep and his lips moved as he tried to reach for something or someone. "Sammy's safe, luv," Morgan assured him softly, knowing that's who he was searching for.

Resting a hand on his face, she stroked a finger gently and breathed easier when he relaxed again before choosing to hear the complaints the older man was tossing her way. "No, easing his pain, taking his fear away and helping him sleep isn't going to cause me any problems, Jim," she replied, standing after taking another moment to soothe her friend's uneasy sleep and meeting Jim's eyes with a gaze that he recognized as trouble. "What I do to his goddamn cold blooded father? That's another story. Stay with them and I'll be right back."

"Morgan! Don't do anything that…" Jim started to reply when he recognized the flash of light as an annoying mystic's power and sighing. "Well, this isn't going to be pretty and I pity Bobby and Caleb."

"Did Morgan go to see Dad?"

The unexpected tiny voice had Jim whirling to see Sam standing in the door, chewing his bottom lip while rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Sam, how much did you hear?"

"If she goes to see Dad, he'll find out about her powers, Pastor Jim," the boy knew his Dad didn't know that the girl his brother seemed to be getting closer to had powers and if he found out… "If Dad finds out about Morgan he won't let Dean see her again and then he'll be sad and it'll be my fault and…"

Motioning the smaller Winchester over to him, Jim wrapped a comforting arm around him. "Sam, yes, Morgan probably did go talk to John but I'm sure she understands to keep her powers off," he figured giving himself confession for that lie was worth the relief he saw in the boys' face. "Let's get you cleaned up now and we'll fix some soup for when Dean wakes up and Morgan gets back."

As Sam nodded, Jim silently prayed that the girl kept her head or this situation could get worse and Sam would end up blaming himself for it and that was never a good thing.

**Present Day West Virginia, Sam:**

Content with his memory, Sam felt something jerk him back from the blissful peace of his past only to see the snapping jaws that were about to rip his throat out. "Go ahead, bastards," he gritted. "Send me to hell."

The closest dog went to snap when it was burned out of sight with a bright light as a voice spoke that made Sam instantly wish he'd just been killed by the dogs. "Now, Sam, you didn't really think that's what we had planned for you, did you? Silly boy, this was much too complicated to just allow a bunch of homegrown mutts to chew you up."

Too weak to keep his head up, Sam let it fall back but struggled to keep his eyes open. "If I said go to hell, would you or would that be pushing it for you…Zachariah?"

"I thought you were the polite brother," the pudgy, bald Angel clucked his tongue as he stepped over the dead dog to approach the injured Winchester. "That's alright, I look forward to resuming that little talk we were having a few months ago," he knelt down to carefully nudge the useless shotgun away. "It's not easy to find you boys these days, Sam."

"Yeah, pity for you," he shot back, knowing that mouthing off to the hotheaded Angel wasn't a wise thing to do since Sam still had the scars on his back from the last time he'd crossed paths with Zachariah. "Dean's out now and you aren't touching my brother. He'll be long gone and…Argh!"

Making a fist, Zachariah shook his head as he made the boy scream in agony. "No, that's not quite true," he corrected very calmly, too calmly. "You're actually going to bring me your big brother, Sam. Because if I've learned anything at all about you Winchesters if that you can't help sacrificing yourself for the other and Dean will come for you."

Gasping when the pain in his chest leveled off, Sam glared. "I…I'm not calling De'n for you," he spit out, prepared this time for the pain but not for when the evil minded Angel slammed a flattened hand into his torn up leg. "Won't…use me for bait for…my brother."

"Sam, Sam, Sam," Zachariah sighed deeply, pleased to see the pain and shock deepening. "You totally misunderstand me. I don't want to use you as bait to lure in Dean," he replied, seeing the surprise in cloudy hazy eyes as he went in. "No, I plan on using you as bait for the little whore my annoying nephews work for and that will bring Dean to me. You see, I know that he's not the only Winchester she can feel. I mean, how do you think she always kept tabs on you or knew if something was wrong with either of you?" he grinned nastily. "Little Morgan may have a physical link with Dean but because you're his brother, she also made sure to be able to find you in a heartbeat if she needed to. That's how she found you in Oregon, by the way."

Sam's calmness was slowly vanishing. He'd accepted his death in order to protect his brother and Morgan but the thought of the Angels using him to get at either of them… "No, you won't…" adrenaline made him able to push up and attempt to pull the knife next to him but a swift kick to his head from an enforcer sent him reeling back into near darkness. "You…set this…up to get at Dean?"

"No, not just to Dean, Sam," Zachariah replied smugly, lightly patting his chest. "I see this as a good way to get things back on track and deal with a few other little errors but don't worry your little empty head about me doing the torturing this time," he declared, standing to dust off his hands. "You recall how devious normal humans can be, Sam? I mean, you've dealt with rednecks so I think you can probably understand just what cruel and inventive creatures they can be when given the right…tools, the right motivations and before they're done, you'll be begging either for Dean or to say yes to Lucifer."

With a snap of his fingers, Sam's whole body seemed to explode in burning agony as he screamed. "You…can't kill me…"

"You're right, my boy, I can't," the Angel agreed, looking toward the door at a pair of burly men. "But I sure can make you scream, Sam." he told him, pleased to see the younger Winchester convulse in agony before shock, pain and infection forced his mind to blackness. "Humans are too damn weak to enduring fun," he scowled, pointing to Sam as he faced the mortals to whom he had garnered help from. "You do what you want to him but don't do anything that'll kill him since I don't want to deal with Lucifer face-to-face unless this wretched asshole is willing to let Lucifer wear his meat." Zachariah snapped, blinking out as easily as he'd come now that he was content that his plan was back on track.

**Elsewhere in Birkstown:**

Unaware of what was happening back at the cabin, Dean Winchester was trying to plot three steps ahead while keeping his eye in the back seat and not get them both killed by crashing into something.

Since he'd allowed Sam to handle plotting their way here, all the directions for anything in the area was stored in Sam's phone…a phone that was back with his brother.

"Great. No clue where a hospital is, barely a clue on how to get back to the teenager from hell and…"

"…'magine what…he'll be like…at sixteen."

Surprise at even hearing a strained, halting voice behind turned to relief that she was not only still alive but able to try to relieve his tension…which it did slightly.

"If that's a thin way to say that he's like I was when we first met…" he let his eyes lift to the rearview mirror to meet swelled, glassy blue eyes with pupils that were nearly blown. "I was nowhere near as cocky as that kid is right now. He's more like you were that night."

He heard a weak cough that he knew was meant to be a snort before pain choked both and he saw her start to curl on her side. "Angel, I know it hurts but lie flat," he urged, seeing her eyes shoot to his in the mirror at his use of the nickname he'd given her. "You know where the hospital is?"

Something in her expression warned Dean that he wasn't going to like this news as he waited until she was able to speak again. "No…"

"There's no hospital in this town?" he demanded, feeling like slamming a hand into the wheel but restrained…barely. "Okay, plan B."

"Go…back for…him," she whispered tightly, now more awake she could feel the pain from her wounds but she was feeling something more right then. Fear for Sam. "Dean…drop me off and…"

Swinging the car around a curve that took him back into the town proper, Dean took a chance to actually turn quickly to look in the backseat at his injured friend. "I am going back for Sammy," he assured her firmly, adding quickly while sliding one arm over the seat to catch the hand that was weakly lifting. "After I drop you off with the kid, call a merc and maybe shout for that damn mystic who bailed my butt out in Oklahoma and call Castiel but after I get you safe then I'm going back for Sammy, babe. I'll bring him home," he promised huskily, feeling her grip his hand as best as she could right then.

Trying to drive the Impala one-handed up the winding road to the Murray B&B wasn't the easiest thing Dean had attempted recently and he soon saw that his luck was going to get worse when he noticed the Sheriff's cruiser parked in the driveway. "Sonuvabitch."

"Don' pick a…" Morgan had felt his emotions change, picking up the briefest thoughts about the cruiser and figured that Dean hadn't hit it off with Shea. She was about to warn him not to start a fight when a burst of pain went from her side around to her back and she fought the urge to scream.

"Damn," Dean gripped her hand tighter when he heard the pain, stopping the car with a jerk. He was out of the car in a flash to pull open the driver's side passenger door, which would allow him to ease his friend into his arms when he caught sight of the sandy haired pest he was looking for. "Shane!"

Having heard the Impala return, Shane Murray had hurried outside to hopefully keep it's owner and his father apart. When he heard the different tone in Dean's voice though he knew something was wrong.

"Hey, what's up?" he'd started across the yard easily, looking around. "Where's your bro…oh, holy shit!" he took off running when he saw his aunt in Dean's arms. "What happened? Where's Sam? Who…a ghost did…"

"Kid, I really need to lie her down and make some calls so I can go back for my brother," Dean interrupted, hating that the boy had to see this. "A hospital would be…"

Shane knew that was out for more than one reason so he grabbed the duffel that Dean was trying to manage, to lead him back around the house. "The garden house has that sofa bed that'll work until I can think of something or…"

"It's fine, kid," Dean assured him, noticing that Morgan had tensed but put that off to the pain he knew she was in. "I'll have Sam back here soon, Morgan," he assured her, hoping he was right as he watched while Shane pulled the sofa out into a nice full sized bed. "I need to know how bad it is and tell me the truth,"

Fighting the pain and the sudden extra pain that she knew dully wasn't a good thing, Morgan managed to move one hand to sign something that he quickly cut off.

"Hey, I always told you or Sam the truth when I was hurt…when it counted," he put in quickly, gently placing her on the bed but was careful when he propped her up slightly on the pillows that Shane supplied.

Steadying his hands, Dean laid one lightly on her stomach and was relieved not to feel it rigid. He didn't like the gasp of pain though when he touched her side or the way Morgan shifted to avoid the pillow touching the small of her back.

"No ghost did this, Morgan," he spoke tightly, seeing the boy off to one side with Morgan's cell phone in his hand. "You need to tell me who or what did this so I know what Sam's facing."

Barely remembering anything, Morgan did know that no spirit had inflicted the wounds she had. She just wasn't certain how to explain what had. Shivering as he removed his jacket in order to give him access to the wounds, she grabbed his wrist before he could touch her even as the sound of a pistol being cocked sounded in the room.

"Shane, get outside," Shea Murray ordered his son while steadying his service revolver at Dean as he stepped closer to finally see Morgan and immediately jumped. "You son of a bitch! Get the hell away from her before I shoot you…"

"Dad!" Shane snapped, stepping between them without a thought even as Dean was turning from where he sat on the bed. "He's Aunt Morgan's friend. Him and his brother found her when you wouldn't do a damn thing!"

Shea's eyes shot to his son for a brief second before locking on the cold green eyes of the stranger he'd met earlier. "I warned you about causing trouble in my town, mister," he declared evenly, holding the gun so it was aimed at Dean's heart. "Now, get away from the bed, drop to the floor and maybe I won't shoot you for any number of things I could name…kidnapping, assault, attempted rape…"

Shane yelled at this and Dean's body went rigid until he felt the weak hand that touched his back. Settling back beside Morgan, his eyes never left the Sheriff while motioning to the boy.

"Dial Robinson," he ordered, not giving a crap where the mercenary leader was right then.

Having already done that, Shane pushed the dial button and heard it pick up on the third ring. "Kel, I gotta a problem," he began slowly, holding the phone out so Dean could take it with one hand while his other was stretched out to give Morgan something to hold onto.

"Robinson, don't give me attitude, don't give me hassles," he began seriously, knowing the blond man on the other end would recognize his voice and also the tone. "First, I thought it was your job to watch out for Morg. Letting her get hurt in New Orleans and then get kidnapped in Hell Town is slipping up in the job description for you," he paused to catch a breath, slightly surprised that he was being given the chance to finish. "Second, I need a medic in Birkstown ASAP cause Morgan's hurt and I ain't got a way to get her to an ER. Then I want MacShayne here to tell me what the hell is really going on in this town because black dogs and chains with Enochian binding spells on them should not be an issue here! Or, and you want to tell the cop to put the damn gun down before I show him my gun?"

Kelly Robinson, leader of the mercenary team that worked for Morgan sometimes, already had a headache from the shouting match he'd just had with that very same mystic. Dean Winchester calling him just capped an already bad week "Oookay, put this on speaker, Winchester," he sighed, waiting until he heard a click and Dean's voice in an all too sweet way telling Shea that someone wanted to talk to him.

"No, I don't want to speak to him but I also don't want him putting holes in you since I know that will mean Morgan will try to vaporize him…again," Kelly growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shea, put that damn gun away because I can promise you that Dean has a much bigger gun than your service revolver and probably a few other nifty things that only Morgan would have otherwise," he snapped in his best tone. "He's a…friend," he nearly choked on the word. "If she was in trouble, you should've called me or…oh, I see by my second in command that Shane's left 150 messages…shut up, Dean."

"Not saying a word, Kel," Dean rolled his eyes, eyeing the cop. "You going to put that away or do you want her to continue to bleed out?"

Ignoring the shouting from the phone as Shane quickly turned off the speaker, he noticed that his Dad still hadn't lowered the gun but had moved it slightly so it wasn't aimed at the elder Winchester any longer. "Kel, Aunt Morgan is hurt…bad."

"I'll have Stan there as soon as I can and Jack as soon as I get him again," Kelly assured the teen. "Just make sure Dean doesn't kill your family."

Morgan had been trying to ease the tension when Dean slowly turned back to her. "Shhh, it's fine. Your…brother doesn't like me and I'm not thrilled with him," he replied easily, seeing that her eyes looked even more glassy than before. "What's wrong?"

Blinking up at him, she started to say nothing when an image seared her mind and despite being weak, she gripped Dean's hand tightly. "…Sam…"

"Babe, I said I'm gonna get Sammy as soon as I'm sure you'll be…" Dean frowned when she tried to grab his shirt with her other hand, a move that told him she was trying to make a point. "Morgan? What're seeing?" he demanded, recognizing the signs even if he didn't understand the how right then.

"Sam…Dean, go…get him…now," she whispered, not liking the images or the dull pain that she was too weak to shield herself from. "Please…he's hurt…he's…Dean, he's scared."

The words Sam+scared normally equaled Dean jumping into hyper manic protective mode and he was but he was also torn between making sure she was safe and doing what he knew he needed to for his little brother.

Seeing his hesitance, Morgan's injuries didn't seem so bad to her and she forced herself to grip his shirt tightly to pull him closer. "Dean…go…get…our…Sammy," she gritted. "You…promised to…"

Taking the hand away from his shirt since it still amazed him that she could cause him pain with no visible nails, Dean nodded. "Alright, I'll go. You stay still, stay with the kid and I'll bring Sammy back here so you can lecture him while I patch you both up and then I'm dragging both your butts to Bobby's." he replied smartly, standing to go when he paused. "The hell with it," he muttered, kneeling down to cup her face in one hand. "As soon as I get this mess fixed and we ditch Sammy with Bobby, you and me need to talk, babe," Dean murmured, feeling the fever under his hand before he leaned in to brush a simple, gentle kiss across her split lips then pulled back to address Shane. "You stick with her like glue until a medic or that mystic shows up and don't let anyone touch her but one of them."

"Got it," the boy covered his smirk with his hand as Dean pushed past the Sheriff without a word. "Yeah, I can see what you see in him," he told his Aunt with a laugh as she curled up tighter.

Morgan had known that Dean wasn't going to let the past drop. She owed him the answers he wanted but first she had to make sure both Winchesters made it out of this alive. 'Hang on, Sammy,' she thought to herself.

Hating to leave until he knew someone was with Morgan that he trusted…or at least abided, Dean had known when she said that Sam was hurt and scared that he needed to get back to that damn cabin in a hurry. Having taken a closer look at the map, he saw a way to actually take the Impala closer than they had before.

Swallowing his fear when he tried to dial up Sam's cell only to have it go directly to voicemail, he switched gears and pushed another number. "Cas! Birkstown, West Virginia, these coordinates, meet me now!" he snapped, parking the car as close as he could, pulling his .45 even as he ran full out for the cabin.

"Damn it, Sam, you better be alright or I'll never hear the end of it!" he growled to himself, knowing he'd hate himself if Sam was injured but also knowing that Bobby Singer would kill him. "Sam! Where are…oh, God."

Remembering his surprise when he and Sam had first come upon the still well preserved house. Now his shock came from finding the house badly in need of repair and half collapsed as it some great wave of power had just swept through and pounded it into the ground.

Looking around the dead ground to see the burned bodies of the black dogs, Dean's heart had finally gotten out of his throat when he saw the roof of the house caved in, making it impossible to get inside. "Sam!" he shouted, hoping to find his brother somewhere outside as he rushed forward but only saw more destruction. "Sammy, answer me! SAMMY!"

"He's not here, Dean."

Whirling, he barely stopped from firing the .45 at the trench coat wearing Angel. "Damn it, Cas!" he snapped, shoving the gun away to whirl back in search of his brother when what the Angel had said registered. "What d'ya mean, Sam's not here. Where the hell is he and what hit this place?"

Castiel had lost a great deal of his power since deciding to betray his orders and side with the Winchesters and while Dean could cheerfully strangle him at times, he did trust him…well, more than he did most of the Angel Patrol.

"I cannot tell you Sam's exact location since I can't sense him out anymore due to the carvings I placed on your ribs but I do know that he was taken from this place…by mortals…yet even that trail is blocked from me," Castiel didn't seem to like the implications of that. "What exactly are you doing in this place, Dean?"

"Helping a friend and now I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Dean replied darkly, running restless fingers through his short hair. "Sam stayed behind to buy me the time to get Morgan clear. He should've been fine but…what hit the house?"

"Zachariah," Castiel responded, having no doubt about that since he had picked up the Senior Angel's powers as soon as he arrived.

Slowly Dean turned from staring at the house to glare at his Angel friend, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Are you telling me that Zachariah, the douchebag asshole that has been trying to make me an Angel condom since the night Lucifer got out, was here?" he asked carefully, wanting to be sure he was understanding. "He was here in a spot where my brother is no longer? He leveled the house?"

Before Castiel could nod or reply, Dean was walking away to pace as things began to hit him. Shane had said that Zachariah had tried to nail Morgan in New Orleans before this started. Morgan's injuries were too severe for a simple witch's spirit to have caused them and she'd been bond by chains with Enochian engravings. Now Sam was gone and the last place Dean had seen his brother had been leveled by…

"Sonuvabitch!" he snarled, fury erupting. "That no good…find them!"

"Dean, you know that I…" Castiel had began to explain again how both Winchesters were invisible to Angels when they heard a familiar ringtone.

Grabbing for his phone, Dean looked at the caller ID first to feel his pulse jump. "Sammy?"

"Did you lose someone, Dean?" Zachariah asked condescendingly from the other end. "Oh, yes. That adorable little brother of yours seems to have gone missing, hasn't he?"

"Where. Is. My. Brother?" he demanded, pronouncing each word tightly. "Sam has nothing to do with this, Zachariah. You want me, not him."

Pausing to examine the very interesting cell phone, the bald suited Angel nodded as if he could be seen. "True, but Sam is the means to you, Dean…well, after your little whore feels him enough to lock on to him, that is. Dean, I meant to ask, how is that poor girl?"

"Why?" Dean demanded, feeling his blood go cold.

"No reason, no reason," Zachariah turned to look on to the latest activities going on near him. "I was just wondering. I meant to ask her about the scar on her shoulder, the one she got the night she and your Father fought. I wonder why she didn't have one of my annoying nephews remove it but then I'm sure it'll blend in with all the others she got this time. How is her back, Dean? Milt was especially creative back there."

Hearing the words but only seeing white, it took Dean several seconds to find his voice. "I will kill you for touching either of them," he promised, fighting back his rage to keep his voice steady. "Where's Sam?"

"I can't tell you that, Dean but…I will give you something," Zachariah assured him, holding out the phone just as his new little helped lifted something and a scream was heard. "I know I can't kill Sam, but I can take out my frustrations over you on your precious little brother…until you get here. Here, your brother's on the phone, Sam. Tell him how much fun you're having."

Fingers gripped the phone tighter when he heard the painful gasps and finally… "De'n?"

"Sammy, it's alright. I'll find you soon…just…" he broke off in frustration, not knowing what to say to help his brother. "I'll be there."

"…De, no…don't," Sam fought to get the words out, barely conscious and body wracked with agony he had to get that through to Dean. "Trap."

Dean laughed dryly, wiping a hand over his face to feel the burning tears. "Yeah, no joke there, kiddo," he agreed bitterly. "Morgan and I'll find you, Sammy. Just hold on to…"

Another painful scream tore into Dean's soul but before the phone was taken away, he heard his brother say the one thing that would ensure Zachariah and whoever else had hurt his little brother would pay. He heard words from Sam that he hadn't heard in fifteen years…he heard his Sammy fighting tears and him begging Dean not to hate him.

The scream still echoing, Zachariah came back on the line. "That should hold you until you figure out the rest of this, Dean," he sneered. "Have fun. I know I will."

Castiel knew by the way Dean's jaw was clenching that he was furious. He had heard the screams and wished you could have locked on to either Sam or the other Angel but couldn't. "We'll find him."

"Oh, hell yeah, we'll find Sam," Dean gritted, pocketing his phone to stalk back to the Impala. "You're coming with me and this time I want to know how Morgan could find Sam in Oregon and I want to know what the hell else is going on in this freakin' town."

Knowing that the Angel would show up in his own time, Dean slammed the door and jammed the keys into the ignition but the only thing he could see was his brother. Both as Sam was today and as he was at twelve.

He'd never guessed that his little brother still blamed himself for that time. He had thought that he and Morgan had assured Sam that Dean's injuries hadn't been his fault. Clearly though, Sam still thought differently and he knew by the last things he'd heard that his brother was dangerously close to reverting back to that time and that was bad for them in so many ways.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded bitterly, praying he found Sam in time because he couldn't lose his brother…not like this. "Hang on, Sammy. Big brother's gonna make it right…no matter who I have to kill."

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Well, Sam survived the dogs so far but will he survive Zach's evil plans before Dean and Morgan can get to him or will someone else make an appearance? What is Zachariah's master plan? How do Dean and Morgan figure into it and as Dean finally learns some of the secrets of that fateful summer fifteen years ago, how will he react? Come back for CH 5 to find out as we will have evil Angels, some really ticked of Dean action, some more Teen!Chester flashbacks and more!_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. Those always mean so much as they let me know I'm going in the right direction._


	5. Chapter 5

**Memories & Demons**

**A/N: **_While it's not much there will be mentions of abuse and violence in flashback form. Thanks!_

**Chapter Five**

**Murray B&B Meanwhile:**

Not aware of what was happening not too far away, Morgan Harrison had decided that she needed to be up and moving, not stuck on the sofabed despite the growling of her newly arrived medic, Stanley Blackwell was doing as she struggled to stand.

The tension in the garden house since Dean Winchester left was nearly palpable. Stan had arrived with a clearly unhappy Jack MacShayne who took one look at Morgan's adopted brother and seemed to grow even more unhappy.

"Been busy, Sheriff?" he asked mildly, blue eyes sparking with energy that seemed to be reacting to being in the town which set off his alarms. "Many muggings, murders, big black dogs eating your townspeople?"

Sheriff Shea Murray glared at the mystic but kept silent while he smoothed a finger over the trigger guard of the pistol that he still had in his hand.

"Jack! Quit picking a bloody fight with Shea and tell me where the bloody hell you've been recently?" Morgan snapped, batting her medic off only to find that the pain in her back was so bad she nearly fell into the table if the mystic hadn't appeared by her in time to catch her arm.

"Oh, gee, I don't know. There's something called the Apocalypse that a couple moronic brothers started that's been keeping me busy?" he reminded her sourly, not liking the way she was looking or what he picked up when he touched her. "Wars, famines, pestilences, deaths spreading hither and yon across the lands not to be topped by the ever wonderful involvement of Angels and demons both looking to turn your boys into meatsuits for my damn uncles," he scowled. "All and all, I've been having a great couple weeks."

"Yeah? Try getting nailed by a stupid ghost witch with an attitude and an affinity for sharp objects," Morgan shot back sourly, reaching up to twist the chain on her necklace as she normally would when on edge before she remembered giving it to Shane to give back to Dean. "I've had a fun five bleedin' days and if Dean and Sam hadn't come who knows how long it would…what?"

Jack's eyes had narrowed. "What witch?" he demanded, looking at her injuries and the slashes on her wrists which had been all she'd allow him to heal. "You didn't get these injuries from no damn witch and especially not a ghost witch."

"I was the one chained to a damn slab, mate, so I think I know what…" she began to argue, wishing Dean would call or something so she'd know what was happening since her abilities weren't strong enough to find out herself and her last image hadn't made her too happy.

"You need to leave," Shea Murray spoke suddenly in a no nonsense tone that normally got the citizens in town to jump but only had his sister shifting a dry look his way while the mercenary medic just smirked and Jack ignored him. "Right now, Morgan. Leave town and just forget all of this."

"Yeah, I'm sure the boss will forget being tortured while visiting," Stan snorted, curious about the way the Sheriff was acting.

Morgan gave him a dry look that would have matched one of Dean's better used looks of disbelief as she nodded. "Sure, Shea. I'll be more than happy to leave Hell Town and never look back," she agreed, adding swiftly. "Just as soon as Dean and Sam come through that door I'll be gone but not a bloody second sooner."

"Where are they exactly?" Jack wanted to know, not wanting to tell her that since Lucifer brought up the final Horseman that his powers had been going weird due to the upheaval in the mystical realms. "I kind of expected to teleport Stan in here and have one of those morons pointing guns at him."

"Sam stayed behind at the witch's cabin so Dean would have time to get me clear," she didn't sound pleased with that plan and in fact wished she'd been able to get the younger Winchester to come out with them. "The bloody woman's black dogs had him surrounded and I caught a flash a little bit before you showed up so Dean went…Jack? What I tell you about swearing in Enochian/Latin when I don't have a translator handy?"

Jack had known things were wrong in this town from the second he'd ceased his spell but now he was positive things were more than wrong, especially since his friend had no real clue about her own injuries. "Alright," he began slowly, looking over to see the Sheriff shifting his service revolver uneasily. "Let me see if I have this straight. You came here after Zach nailed you in the Big Easy instead of going to South Dakota like you told me you were because Shane's little sister was almost grabbed by this witch?"

"Yeah, the town's very own dark little secret," Shane Murray put in from his seat at the table. "Abigail Stone was a witch who was killed by the town founders in 1863 because she made a pact with the Devil. She swore a curse on the town that every twenty years she'd return and people would vanish for two weeks and so on," he shrugged. "I called Aunt Morgan after Em was almost grabbed but this time the witch isn't doing the usual pattern that I could see was established."

"Shane, let's leave your…Aunt alone…while we go see about dinner," Shea spoke quickly, reaching out to take his son by the shoulder when a sharp pain went through his fingers.

Leveling a dark look at the Sheriff, the mystic held out a piece of paper to the boy. "Shane, do me a favor and go see if your Mom has any of this stuff either in her pantry or the house?" he asked easily, placing the list in his hand but as he went on his gaze never left the older Murray's. "I need them for a locating spell."

"I can help you if you wait a second, son," the Sheriff again went to reach out with the hand that wasn't holding his weapon when a firm grip suddenly moved his arm back.

"No, I don't think so, Sheriff," Jack growled lowly, wishing he'd thought to bring one of his brothers on this job. "Shane, go and if you see Dean come back…just keep looking for that stuff."

Stanley Blackwell had caught the tone the mystic used even if the teenager hadn't and as Shane left the tiny guest house, he felt the energy change a second before Jack's hand waved to send Shea crashing into a wall.

"Jack?" Morgan stared at the sudden action, starting to move when Stan caught her arm. "What're you…"

"You care to come clean now before I tell her, before I undo what my no-good Uncle did to screw with her short-term memory of the past five days, or before Dean Winchester gets back here and probably puts a few .45 caliber holes in your head?" Jack demanded tightly, letting his grip heat up slightly. "Winchesters are dense, moronic, stubborn, mule-headed sons of bitches but the one thing they are not is stupid. Dean will figure this out and I can promise that you'd rather I vaporize you into atoms than what either he or Morgan will do to you, Shea."

As the local law enforcement officer cringed at the heat shooting up his wrist, Jack snapped his fingers to make the service revolver vanish. "You'd only get hurt if I left that handy because point it at me, you'd be gone in an eyeblink." the mystic remarked, releasing his grip to cross the room to his usual employer. "Boss, you won't like me very much in the next five seconds."

"I don't like you very much right now, mate," she returned warily, looking between Jack to her scowling brother. "What's going on, Jack? What do you want Shea to tell me? What's going on with Dean? He found Sammy right?"

I can't tell that because someone, Zachariah probably, put up some type of shield spell to keep me from doing what I did in Oregon when I pulled Dean out of his clutches," the black haired mystic replied, seeing her concern for the Winchesters and really hating what he had to do. "You know in your heart that the memories you have of that past few days aren't right because you saw who cut you. You saw who put those welts and that mark on your back on you. You know but you don't remember so…I'm sorry."

Before she could ask what he meant or before she knew what he was planning, Jack placed a hand to her forehead and lights exploded a second before Morgan went limp.

"Jack?" Stanley gaped, not believing the mystic had just used his powers on their friend and certainly not liking when she passed out or the way her body had started to shake. "You want to tell me why or should I just call Kelly and let him kill you?"

"I'd wait until he had a real reason to kill me, thanks," Jack responded, not concerned as he turned his gaze back to the Sheriff. "You have maybe three minutes before she wakes up screaming and then she's either going to give me the nod to burn you, turn you into a baby dragon, or wait for Dean to get back and let him kill you. Because I can promise once he finds out about who really hurt her and about his little brother, Winchester's going to be pissed. Give me a reasonable excuse, say you were brainwashed for a short time, and I might slow him down."

Gasping and trying to pick himself up from the floor, Shea Murray glared at the mystic. "I don't know what you're…"

"Abigail Stone was a crazy woman in 1863 whose husband was killed by your ancestor. Her child died of a fever outbreak that spring. She didn't kill them in a pact with the devil…I mean Lucifer's nuts but he'd also choosy," Jack began evenly, keeping himself between where Stan was kneeling next to Morgan and the Sheriff. "Birkstown sprouted up way too fast and became way too prosperous in those days of the War for that to have been natural and since you are talking to a guy whose Father knows of ever major soul/town bartering deal ever made, I know what really happened. Care for a history lesson, Sheriff or do you just want to tell me why you sold out your own sister?"

"Huh?" Stan turned to stare. "Why would Shea betray Morgan to the Devil?" he asked, confused and hating all of this crap.

"Not the Devil," Jack laughed even though amusement was far from what he was feeling. "Wrong circle of friends, though his ancestors certainly sent enough blood to the lower caste demon they dealt with," he admitted.

Sighing, Shea Murray slowly slumped back against the wall as if in defeat. "I told her not to come. I told her not to get involved or go into the woods," he argued. "I wanted her to leave but…"

"Nice show. It works on the mortals but I can see into your damn heart and you knew if your daughter was threatened Shane's first call would be to Morgan," Jack snapped, flipping his hand to ignite a small sphere of blue light. "Your family and another made that deal in 1863 but while your ancestor thought he got out of it after his son died fighting back the other family has continued on with the practice but your family still has a hand in it," he declared, eyes cold. "What? Find the tourists? Hand over the innocents to be bled, tortured and finally killed? Is that what you do, Sheriff? Or have you taken a more physical hand in it?" he demanded. "Did you this time while Zach's new attack dogs were slicing my friend's, your sister's, arms?"

Before Shea could choose to respond, Morgan's eyes snapped open with a scream that died as soon as she laid eyes on him. "…Why?" she asked in a whisper, pain and confusion evident in her eyes as she clearly recalled the past five days.

"Morgan…you can still leave," Shea sighed, looking away from the accusations he saw reflected in his sister's face. "There's still time. They just wanted the Winchesters and…"

"Oh, shit," Stan breathed a second before whatever power or energy Morgan had gained back was used against the town Sheriff. "Boss, you're too weak for…shutting up."

Blue eyes still glassy with shock from injuries still raw, the young British woman ignored it all. She ignored the pain, she ignored the nausea, she even ignored the betrayal she felt but what she wasn't willing to ignore was that she was used as bait to lure her friends into danger. Set up as bait by her own… "I saw you there, Shea," she declared in a low, soft voice, accent vanishing as it did when really angry. "I saw you standing there with that fat, bald, bastard as he bragged about having the perfect bait for Dean and Sam. You watched as they…"

"I'm sorry," Shea murmured, seeing Jack smirk a second something crashed above his head. "The family is tied to the town and the town survives by these damn sacrifices. Jason usually is the one to help…them but this time…" he held out a hand to her while moving his other slowly around to his back up pistol. "This time at damn Angel appeared and changed the rules of the deal. He said if we…used you to get these brothers here that he could cancel out the deal. The town would be free. No one else would have to die and he swore you wouldn't be hurt but…"

"Dude, you've watched a little too much 'Touched By An Angel' on TV," Jack laughed, now very amused. "Angels aren't the honest, goody-two shoes, help in a pinch type like Roma Downey or Michael Landon made it appear. Most Angels are self-serving, deceitful when it serves 'em, backstabbing sons of bitches and Zachariah is the worst amongst those," he stated, shaking his head at the naivety of mortals these days. "Your town made a deal with a lower caste demon. Zach might think he's got power over everything but not even an Angel can cancel out a blood debt deal with a damn demon. Only one other person or entity besides another Crossroads demon can do that and…well, alright most Angels can't since Lucifer can but it's complicated."

Silently unsnapping the holster under his jacket that held the weapon, Shea sighed. "I know that," he admitted, looking up. "He said that once he got what he wanted he was turning the other boy over to Lucifer and that he'd cancel the deal."

"You…Zach said…" Jack caught how pale Morgan had gone at that statement while he was just left speechless. "How arrogant are you to expect to make a goddamn deal with the freakin' King of Hell, Murray?" he demanded, beginning to see that even he'd underestimated this situation and a call to his brothers was going to be needed. "Stupid, if Zach gets what he wants which is the Archangel Michael inside Dean Winchester. The only thing that will happen if he summons Lucifer is, if Sam's in bad enough shape to not be able to refuse or he's an empty shell, is that Lucifer wears Sam and your town and the surrounding county will be wiped off the world map as Armageddon happens right on your damn door!"

As Stan was deciding if it was best to have Jack take Morgan out of the area until he could get more help here, Shea made a quick move to roll out with his back up pistol aimed. "No, he promised that would happen elsewhere but that the town would survive." he held the weapon steady, swallowing at he let it settle on his pale, shell shocked adopted sister. "Please, just leave. The Winchesters are beyond your help. You did what you were supposed to do, now leave. I don't want to have to…have to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Morgan actually laughed at that, feeling the twinge in her ribs. "You don't want to hurt me?" she repeated, waving a hand to indicate herself. "I think you did that already, Shea. You also realize that Stan could disarm you with one shot or Jack could vaporize you before you could get that shot off?"

"Yeah, I know that," Shea Murray finally met her eyes with a gaze that told her to move. "I'm sorry, Morgan," he murmured, closing his eyes to avoid the sudden flash that announced the arrival of trouble and he fired.

Having his abilities dimmed since Lucifer started playing with Horsemen and all, Jack wasn't expecting the arrival of two of Zachariah's enforces. "Shit! Stan, grab the boss! I'm 'porting you both clear!" he yelled, hearing the sound of the pistol going off. "Stan!"

Whirling to check on his friends, Jack swore when he caught sight of the mercenary medic holding his side while the one enforcer was heading for him but before he could fire an energy sphere in that direction he had his own issues.

"Zachariah expected your trips this time, boy," the dark haired, black suited Angel goon sneered, pulling the long shiny silver knife Angels used to kill once another. "He's made sure to take care of this time."

"Just my luck, a choir boy with an attitude," Jack replied, leaning back to avoid the blade since he knew that while it wouldn't kill him, it would hurt like hell if he was even scratched by it. "Morgan! Get the hell outta here! Find Dean and scream for Ethan!" he snapped, too busy to look to see where she was and if he had he wouldn't have been happy.

Having just remembered in detail the last time she'd had any dealings with those black suited goons of Zachariah's, Morgan Harrison nearly froze at the sight of them but old instincts kicked back in. She started to move to help Stan who her so-called brother had just shot when she went down hard to the floor, not expecting to be grabbed by the ankle.

"Shea, stop!" she turned to her back to immediately see the muzzle of the pistol aimed at her heart. "How do you plan to explain this to Shane?" she finally asked, suddenly too tired to even try to summon a spark of power as her eyes seemed to blur in pain that was part hers and part…she stopped the thought. "Or, will you just ask an Angel to rearrange his memories?"

"It's a way," the law officer admitted seriously, aim shaking only once before it steadied. "If you'd just gone away and not remembered but I can't let you or Stan leave here knowing what's gone on, hon," he explained reasonably, pulling back the hammer of the pistol. "It'll be quicker than if Zachariah ended up doing what he wanted."

Morgan's heart clenched at that possibility since she knew what the underhanded Angel was capable of but it wasn't fear for herself that she felt now. It was fear for her friends. Knowing that Sam was in evil hands made her sick. The knowledge that she'd been used to put the young man in that position was worse.

Only the thought that Dean was still free and would find Sam gave her the peace to stare into Shea's cold gaze as his finger brushed the trigger. "So shoot me," she told him with an eerie calmness, adding. "Shoot me, Shea but when you do you'd better look over your shoulder every bleedin' day for the rest of your life."

"I'm not scared of Kelly's boys, Morgan," Shea laughed until he saw her eyes and he sobered.

"Good but it's not Kel you'll need to scared of," Morgan closed her eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over her when a more familiar feeling seemed to enter the room.

"Then who, little sister?" Shea asked, not liking her calmness.

"That would be me, asshole."

Whirling to bring his gun around to fire, the local Sheriff grunted when a hard knee hit him in the midsection while a fist gripped the front of his shirt to yank him further away from Morgan and hard against the wall. The sound of a .45 being cocked next to his head was heard. "Looks like I'm not the only trouble your town has, Sheriff but I'll still be around when it's over. I can't promise that for you," slamming the butt of the pearl handled .45 hard against Murray's skull until the cop finally slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Shoving the .45 back into his jeans, Dean looked to be sure Castiel was handling his end of things before he dropped to his knees to see that her eyes were partially open but he didn't like what he saw in them. When he'd left he'd seen pain reflected into blue eyes that he'd once seen so much life and energy. Now, he saw fear, confusion, and…guilt.

"Staring down a nut with a loaded gun? That's something I'd do," he chided lightly, hoping his hands were more steady now that he'd dealt with the threat than they were when he'd walked in to see the Sheriff about to pull the trigger on her. "You're supposed to be smarter, babe. Hell, even Bobby said you were smarter than me about not mouthing off…well, at gun-toting nuts, that is."

"Knew you were coming," Morgan murmured, looking into Dean's eyes fully for the first time and recognized the emotions he was burying and the reasons behind them. "Sammy?"

Moving his eyes to watch as Castiel dispatched the enforcer who was about to kill Stanley Blackwell, he took his time answering. "I'll get Sammy back," he promised her, emotions' showing in his voice even as he fought to keep them from his face while reaching down to help her sit up and was a little surprised when she reached for him. "Easy."

"I'm sorry, Dean," she whispered, feeling real tears burn for the first time since waking up to his voice but the thought that he and Sam had been brought into this because of her. That Sam was still in danger and being hurt even as he was dealing with this made walls that she'd always made certain held up in front of Dean most of the time began to crack. "If I had known about this, about any of this…I wouldn't have told Shane to call you. I'd…"

"Be dead or worse," Dean finished for her, having figured out a lot of this on his way back here and what little he hadn't guessed on his own had coming blaring into focus upon seeing the Sheriff holding a gun on Morgan while Angel enforcers were in the room. "Nothing's your fault, Morgan. Sam and I would've come as soon as anyone would have told us you were in trouble. Hell, how many times have you bailed us out over the years…and I really haveta talk to you about some of those too."

Feeling her shaking, he knew the signs of walls breaking in Morgan. He'd seen it this way once and he hadn't realized then how long she'd held those walls up for Sam's sake until he had made one joking remark in a cabin fifteen years ago and she broke.

"Shhh, it's alright," he whispered against her hair, tightening his arms only when he felt weak fingers gripping his jacket and like it was once before whatever it was went wrong, he felt the emotions and guilt running through her thoughts over a link that he wondered if she knew was getting stronger again. "Sam knew what he was doing and we'll…"

"He thought he was facing just black dogs and a bloody witch," she countered, feeling the pain building again. "He didn't know he was a target for…damn it!"

Dean's arms stayed locked when he felt Morgan try to push away, needing her calm for the moment as he gently lifted her face even as the second enforce went flying across the room. "That douchebag played a number and he still thinks he has the upper hand but he didn't count on something," holding her eyes seriously he added. "No one hurts our Sammy, right?"

One sentence that had come out of a summer of keeping an active twelve year old out of trouble and had bonded them more closely than few other things could seemed to settle Morgan down slightly until her eyes caught sight of her brother and she recalled his part in this.

"Morg?" noticing where her eyes were and catching brief flashes of her unlocked memories had Dean swearing under his breath. Moving quickly but gently, he stood to bring her up with him but was quick to steady her when she seemed to nearly double from pain. "Damn, Cas! Kill that other asshole so that mystic can tell me what the hell's been happening here!" he snapped, easily lifting her up fully into his arms and then debated on the wiseness of staying in the guest house if anymore 'friends' of the Sheriff showed up.

Hearing that order made Jack remember he didn't have time to play. "I do not need Castiel's help to burn this cretin, Winchester," he growled, whirling on one leg to spin kick the enforcer away from him before igniting his power into a sphere of fire that he tossed into the guy, promptly imploding him. "I just needed time to get breathing room."

"Dean, if Zachariah is willing to send his agents to eliminate…them then the danger of staying in one place is too great. We must leave," he warned seriously, trying to ignore the smirk on Jack's face after the mystic had healed Stan's bullet graze. "I can understand why he'd want you dealt with but why the girl?"

"Uh, probably because I made her remember the real events she lived through and the fact that she saw both the good Sheriff and good old Uncle Zach while she was being tortured?" Jack suggested, shaking his head. "Damn, Cas, how the hell do you survive down here without getting your vessel killed?"

The Angel had just started to turn when Dean whistled, not looking amused. "Cas, you can't kill him since I've seen him scare the crap outta Zachariah and you, what the hell do you mean you 'made' her remember?" he demanded, feeling her tense against him and understanding the flashes now. "I really want that bastard dead, Cas."

"Killing Zachariah is not an easy thing for even another Angel to do, Dean," Castiel responded, fighting the more human urge to snarl when he heard the snicker. "Jack, don't you have to…visit a parent or something?"

"Yeah, me visit Mom or Dad when ice hasn't grown in Hell yet," Jack chuckled, rolling his eyes but then glanced at Stan. "I'm taking him outta here since this is way beyond just him without the rest of the 'Raiders," he decided, ignoring the protesting mercenary. "I'll be back. Just get Morgan someplace safe and do not, I stress, do not go after your brother until I'm back, Dean."

Waiting until the mystic had teleported out to smirk, Dean shook his head. "That'll happen when I'm dead," he decided, motioning to the bag on the floor. "Grab it and the Sheriff. We're blowing this place so I can talk to her and figure out where in this tiny piece of Hell they're keeping my brother." he stated, not willing to put Morgan down until he had her inside the Impala.

"I would think blowing this house up would alert those we are trying to avoid, wouldn't it?" Castiel asked but did grab the bag and the still unconscious Sheriff for the uptight young hunter. "Dean, you do realize dealing with Lucifer and the Apocalypse is enough on your mind right now without having gotten into some sort of domestic issue or…"

"Cas, I think of you as a friend but you're a friend who doesn't know jack squat about me and Sam and you have no idea how complicated my relationship with her is," Dean cut him off before the Angel could say something he'd end up regretting. "So, let me spell it out for you. Other than my brother and my car, there has been one person in my life that I would, without doubt or hesitation, kill for and that's Morgan. So, you're better off not going in the direction you were planning too."

Walking away after taking a quick look to be sure all the noise hadn't alerted the main house, Dean headed for where he'd pulled the Impala and had almost breathed a sigh of relief until he saw the sandy haired boy leaning against the car. "_Sonuvabitch_," he breathed, seeing Morgan tense in his arms after he'd thought she'd fallen asleep and wasn't sure if she was awake or in pain. "Shane,"

"So, I guess Jack won't be needing the stuff for that summoning spell after all, huh?" he motioned to the tiny bag he'd tossed into the backseat, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester," he murmured. "If I had known about Dad or about…no, I did know that he was doing something wrong and that's why he didn't want to help find Aunt Morgan…that's why I called you. I knew you'd save her because if you weren't her friend she wouldn't have cried so much when she found out how bad you and your brother were hurting after losing your friends."

Swallowing the lump that admission caused, Dean merely shook his head. "Kid, you did the right thing in calling us," he assured him as the boy quickly opened the passenger door so he wouldn't have to disturb his friend anymore than was needed. "I can't promise how things will turn out with your Dad because he did something that pissed me off when he let her be hurt but if I can get my brother and Morgan outta this and not do permanent damage to him then for your sake, I will but…right now I can't promise."

"Aunt Morgan never makes promises either unless she's sure she can keep them," Shane grinned a little, repeating something his aunt had told him and while he didn't fully understand it, he thought it sounded important. "She said, she'd made a promise once a long time ago when she was my age and even though she meant to keep it, she couldn't and it ended up hurting someone she…oh." he stopped when he caught the way his new idol's face had twitched and the way his deep green eyes softened. "You were who she was talking about."

"Nah, probably my bratty little brother since she was always making Sammy promises back then," Dean cracked easily to put the teen at ease even though he felt his heart crack at those words, then he coughed as Castiel finally caught up. "Shane, is there anyplace in this town that I can take her until I can find Sam? I mean, someplace that no one would think to look or…"

The boy thought for a second before shrugging. "The old house on the south side is good since no one in town will go near it. It's been derelict since the '70's or something. Aunt Morgan owns it but Dad never knew that she bought it through proxy about five years ago."

"Uh-huh. why does that not surprise me?" Dean muttered under his breath, swearing that he was locking them both in Bobby's panic room until he got all the damn answers he wanted. "Okay, remember, if anyone besides a mystic or a merc that you know comes around asking about Morgan or us, you have no clue where we are and your Dad had to leave town for an emergency police thing or something. Can you handle that?"

"Dude, I've grown up listening to my Aunt and a bunch of hyper mercs," Shane smirked a lot like Morgan used to at his age. "I can handle lying to my family and people…just watch out for the Tolsons. If anyone else in this place is playing the wrong side, it'll be them."

Having gently eased his either sleeping or unconscious friend into the passenger seat and closing the door, he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll take care of her," he promised firmly, seeing the look of relief that passed through the teen's eyes as Dean got behind the wheel and started the car. "Cas, anyway you can shield us from prying eyes, ears, or snooping Angels?"

"I can make certain that no one can come close to this place you've chosen while you find Sam," the Angel sounded wary which for Dean meant that he was on board with this plan. "However, you are aware that the longer Sam is in Zachariah's hands the more liable he is to be permanently damaged?"

"Yeah, not telling me anything I don't know there, Cas," he muttered, looking next to him and finding it odd to have someone other than his little brother in that seat yet it wasn't as bad as when Cas had rode shotgun for that short while. It seemed to him that only two people in his life were meant to have that seat and that was Sam and… "Morg," he whispered, reaching across to brush the hair back from her face to see the livid bruises better now and he knew that if Zachariah had been willing to do this to her then he was deathly afraid of what he was doing to his little brother.

**Elsewhere In Town:**

"Ahh, the sound of a good day's work is always satisfying…even in this backwards place," Zachariah sighed, absently brushing dirt from the lapels on his dark gray suit as he listened to the ragged screams coming from elsewhere in the disgustingly filthy building he was currently standing in. "I told that boy I'd break the silent treatment but he didn't listen."

Hating to be on Earth for long periods, the bald Angel decided to make the best of it this time by expressing his more artistic talents…or at least he had until the fourth time he had to bring Sam Winchester back to consciousness. Then he decided to let the mortals play. They, he was forced to admit, had a penchant for doing enough damage to make the boy scream without doing anything life threatening.

Zachariah just knew he didn't have the patience for that type of slow work anymore. He preferred the quicker methods of using his powers to break, burn, or inflict grievous pain and torment. Not to mention the Tolson's way was much too bloody for him to remain clean if he were as close as he liked to be for this interrogation.

"I can't reach the Sheriff."

Forcing down his irritation at the whiny mortal voice, Zachariah reminded himself that when dealing with mortals, even backwards, country mortals, he needed to show patience. "Your Sheriff is an inbred moron who probably forgot his phone," he remarked calmly, frowning when the scream became hoarse. "Hmm, poor Sam isn't lasting long between passing out."

Milt Tolson cleared his throat, still not comfortable with the arrogant bald man's interference in what should've been a simple thing. "Shea might be a little slow about getting with the program but he knows how important this is. Neither his wife nor his Deputy have seen him this afternoon. Something feels wrong about this…"

"I can tell you exactly what is wrong," turning from the crack window in which he'd been watching the Tolson boys play at being torturers to roll his eyes at the senior. "Dean Winchester is what's wrong. Your precious Sheriff probably didn't do what he was supposed to do in time and he ran face to face with Dean. That being the case, I doubt if you'll see him anytime soon."

Clearly not happy with how blasé the Angel sounded, Tolson fought down the urge to slam a fist on the desk. "You said this was a simple thing. You said, lure Murray's sister back here to get those brothers you wanted to come. Now, she's still alive after seeing us, the brother you want is still on the loose and what good is cutting on that one gonna do if you don't tell his brother where the hell he is?" he demanded loudly, gagging as his throat suddenly felt tight.

"Milt, Milt, Milt, you have not dealt with Dean Winchester before so you have no idea what a huge pain in my ass he's been," Zachariah clucked his tongue as he walked back to dust off the rickety chair before easing his frame down onto it. "Let me tell you a story. I've been dealing with these sacks of meat since the Garrison was first given orders to charge into the bowels of Hell and drag Dean's sorry carcass out. You'd think a boy saved from an eternity of damnation would be grateful but ohhhh no, not Dean Winchester. He was still as cocky as before he went even though he'd broke in thirty years down there. I thought like you probably do. Give the punk a few well chosen nudges and he'd be on board with the whole Michael wearing him like a cheap suit plan but…he wasn't!"

Noticing that the mortal was now turning colors, he released the grip he had on his throat while continuing in a mildly sarcastic tone. "You see, despite going to Hell, being tortured on the racks for thirty years before he finally broke, there was only one other thing I soon learned that could break Dean…and that was his little brother. Dean would sacrifice, die, go to Hell even for Sam so I thought I could use that. I placed obstacles in front of them, made them doubt the other…I even made it so they were tore apart when Sam opened the cage to release Lucifer and _still _Dean went back for him," he shook his head in amazement. "Now, I know that I can threaten Sam to get to Dean but threatening's not enough. I need to break Sam in order to break his big brother but after my plans went awry a few months ago I learned that I had another obstacle in my road. An annoying little witch with ties to my backstabbing sister's brood but imagine my surprise when I found out that Dean had another weakness."

Always pleased to hear his own voice, Zachariah poured some of the fine wine he'd brought with him as he went on with his explanations to the now silently glaring mortal. "Finding out that there was one other person to whom Dean Winchester will or would do anything for made me so happy that I almost forgot how much I want to see this planet burn. So, I needed to see just what the boys were willing to do for this girl. Dean and Sam are always so easy to manipulate when they're reeling and emotionally shredded and I knew after what Lucifer did to them in Carthage that now was the perfect time to act. Sure, I might have went overboard in hurting the girl….Dean probably won't be happy when he sees those, but it had to be done and my boys didn't disappoint. Now, Sam doing what he did surprised me since I thought we'd have to work harder to get them separated but a Winchester isn't anything without the guilt they were bred on and little Sammy feels his like he feels his heart beat.," chuckling her lifted the glass in a toast. "Now, let me explain why we're ripping Sam apart so I can heal him and do it all again."

"Because you're a sadistic bastard who enjoys hearing the boy scream?" Tolson spat, expecting to be tossed or killed but actually earned a laugh.

"Well, yes but that's icing on the cake," Zachariah replied easily. "You see, you do not want Dean Winchester coming in here with his full mind and thoughts collected. If that happens, he'll mop the floor with your boys because he doesn't take anyone touching Sam well. No, we need him off balance and we need him so furious that he's not thinking straight. Bringing up the past he and girl share since he still believes what his Daddy told him, on top of her injuries that I was sure to make it clear who did those, to his fear for his brother will make him act recklessly when he does show up. That makes him easy to manage."

Tolson actually saw the wiseness in that plan but still didn't understand one thing. "So, how do you expect him to show up to be managed if he doesn't know where we are?" he asked. "I mean, even if he has Shea, it won't help since I never told Shea about this place."

"God, I remember why I don't deal with you people often," the Angel groaned, pouring another glass. "That's the reason I'm making sure that while I heal Sam physically, he retains all of the pain of the many, many hours of agony. That will ensure two things. Young Sam's pain will eventually get through to the link that the Harrison girl has with him and while it's not as strong as the one she shares with Dean, she will feel Sam. That will be what brings his brother to us and also, in order for her to feel that much pain since I know Sam's shielding it for the moment, the utter agony that will hit her will also take her out of this fight. I do not want her involved since her abilities make her actually more dangerous to me than even another Angel. So, Sam's pain knocks her out, Dean's emotions will make him leap before he thinks and I'll break Dean the way not even Alistair could have dreamed of doing because to save both his brother and his whore, he'll have to give in to Michael."

Seeing the mortal finally understanding, Zachariah stood to go down to the floor and expand his frustrations on his helpless prisoner some more. "Pity though that while Sam's body might survive this, his mind never will. Of course that will make it easier for Lucifer since even a child like mind can say yes," he laughed all the way downstairs.

Even a man who has killed and tortured as many people over the years as Milt Tolson had couldn't help but feel a little stirring of pity for the boy they currently had strapped to a table. He regretted, not for the first time this cycle, having to deal with this so-called Angel of the Lord.

**Meanwhile…:**

"_How in the hell did ya idjits turn a simple rescue into this crap?"_

Wincing as the loud and highly incredulous voice of Bobby Singer seemed to echo through his head, Dean kept the phone away from his ear until he was nearly certain that the yelling had died down.

"Bobby, I told you how it happened," he argued, going on quickly before the older hunter took off again. "I just need you to tear the history of this town apart. Find out who the bigwigs were back then and now are, see if there are any likely candidates for who might be helping Zachariah out, especially the Tolson family since that's who the kid said to steer clear of."

Wheeling around his desk back in South Dakota, Bobby was at the stage of Winchester frustration that he felt like banging his head into a wall but picked up a pen to write down some notes when he saw heard the flutter of wings, a crash in his pantry and another flutter of wings and rubbed his face.

"What the hell did Castiel just zip in and outta my house for, Dean?" he demanded.

Turning to see the just mentioned Angel reappearing with his arms full of things taken from Bobby's, the elder Winchester winced. "Ahhh, he's trying to make sure we're secure in the house we're staying at. Guess he feels the usual anti-Angel sigals just aren't enough this time," he shrugged, shifting from where he was sitting on the edge of a worn metal desk in what should've been the living room so he could keep an eye on the still knocked out and handcuffed Sheriff. "Just find out what you can."

Hanging up before Bobby could give him an opinion or a lecture, Dean made certain the Sheriff wasn't going anywhere if he did wake up when a sound from a back room made him tense before forcing himself to relax.

"Keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty, Cas," he called, slipping his pistol away under his jacket but felt inside a pocket to check to be sure it was still there before heading for the only bedroom he deemed safe for humans.

The house that Shane Murray had directed them to was on the very outskirts of town, off a side road that unless you knew or had been told a road was there would have been missed. Up a road that had Dean offering silent apologies to his car the entire trip up until they came to a run down two story abandoned house that had certainly seen better days.

Expecting the inside to look as bad as the outside, he'd been shocked to see that certain parts had been fixed enough to allow habitation…if he wanted to picture someone living in this mess, that is.

He'd debated on laying Morgan down in the back bedroom even though it had clearly been recently remade into one if he took the slightly worn double bed as an indication. Dean just wasn't sure he liked the implications of who had been staying here since the only heat available was a couple portable kerosene heaters that he honestly wouldn't have trusted not to blow up so he'd sent Castiel on a run to find him more acceptable heating for the time being.

While the still grumbling Angel had worked on securing their little base, Dean had explored what he could of the house without going upstairs since even he wouldn't trust those stairs. He'd been relieved to find out the well supplying the house with water still worked which again made him wonder who the hell had fixed it up like this and he feared the answer.

"So, do I even want to ask why you'd buy this dump and please don't tell me you've been staying here," he called out to the closed adjoining bathroom door once he noticed his friend wasn't in the bed.

The door opened a crack so he could hear the sink running. "I bought it so Shane'd have a place to hang out when the homelife got too much," she responded after a couple seconds but the low curse didn't miss him.

"You know without Blackwell around you'll have to let me see those eventually," Dean spoke casually, picturing the look that comment earned him as he sat on the bed to open the nightstand and whistled lowly. "Damn. You got enough knives in this drawer?" he asked, while moving the sheaths aside to snoop when a yellowed envelope caught his attention because he recognized his brother's handwriting.

"I know John didn't teach you a lot in the way of manners but I'm sure Bobby told you about snooping through people's nightstands without…" Morgan had stepped out of the bathroom with a clean shirt in her hand that she'd planned to try to change into when she saw Dean sitting on the bed holding a couple faded envelopes and she stopped. "Dean…"

Looking up, the confusion plain in his eyes but so was a spark of anger when he waved the letters. "How long has Sam been writing to you and how the hell did he know where to send 'em?" he demanded, swearing his kill his brother.

"You want to level the tone and the attitude now or is this going to turn into a fight you won't like?" she sighed, snatching the letters away to shove them back in her duffel but kept her back to him when she heard the intake of breath.

"I haven't known where you've been since you took off that damn night and some of these letters are dated a few months after that!" he snapped, fighting to keep his temper in check but for some reason finding out that his brother had been writing to her annoyed the hell out of him. "No calls, no visits, at least not that I knew of, and Sam's been writing to you? How long, Morgan?"

Sitting on the opposite side of the bed away from Dean, she considered this answer since if she told him the truth it would end up hurting him but not for the reason he was probably considering. "He sent the letters through Kelly's address in Kentucky," she replied quietly, knowing his temper was on the brink already after recent events and accepting that she wasn't in any shape to deal with it. "They started coming about month after I left South Dakota and the last one was probably a week before the fire in Stanford because I was planning a trip to California to smack your brother for thinking about proposing to the blond Barbie wannabe."

Fighting to keep a straight face after that comment, Dean coughed and reminded himself that he was angry. "So, you'd write back to my brother but I never deserved a damn note to even say you were still alive?" he demanded, snorting. "That's real good. So I guess Dad was right and we had absolutely nothing between us but…" he broke off when the light by the bed broke into shards of glass.

"You don't even want to go there right now, Dean," she warned softly, shutting her eyes to avoid seeing both the hurt on his face and the pain of their past. "If you're still willing to take what your Dad told you at face value then…"

"You wrote to Sam, damn it!" Dean shouted, turning on the bed to reach for her on instinct when he felt the warning zing go through his hand before he touched her. "How is that not going to tell me that what Dad said was true when you'd write to my little brother but not to me? You left me, Morgan! You left without any word as to why and then I find out that not only have you been keeping an eye on us but you actually wrote back to my…"

"You stupid son of a bitch!" anger, pain, and exhaustion finally made Morgan break as she stood up quickly, a little too quickly when she reached for the wall to steady herself, and faced him fully. "I did write to you!" she snapped back, forcing herself to back off when she noticed the change in his eyes. "Let this go until we get Sam back, Dean. You can't be distracted and you're getting distracted by this."

"I've been distracted since you tried to slit my damn throat in a cemetery sixteen years ago!" he shot back, voice raising as he took two steps toward her only to stop when she stepped back, a look of wary fear forming that stopped him cold and something Zachariah had said on the phone came back to him. "When I talked to my less than favorite Angel he mentioned something about a scar on your shoulder from that night you and Dad had it out. Morgan, what the hell happened between you and Dad to make him turn on you?" he asked, hating that he was putting the letter thing off but something told him that this was also important since Sam blamed himself for the incident between her and their Father. "Sam said it was his fault what happened but that never made sense."

Thrown by his sudden switch in topics and unsettled by the sudden burning pain she was experiencing, Morgan went to wave him off when the pain shot from her back into her stomach and she nearly doubled up if his arm hadn't reached out to support her in time.

"Easy, sit down," watching her face, Dean sat next to her on the bed to wait out the pain which he knew it normally leveled off. "We need to talk, Morgan," he told her quietly, letting his hand settle on her shoulder but felt her tense as he slid it lower to feel the heat under her shirt at the small of her back. "How'd Zach know we were connected?" he asked suddenly, recalling the easiest way to get anything out of her was to bring it up suddenly and was pleased that it still worked.

"New Orleans, probably," she murmured, nearly rocking against the pain now until Dean's arm gently moved to bring her against his side as he had so long ago when it would be just them after Sam had been put to bed. "Bloody annoying…buggers nailed me down there. I don't have a lot of memory of what went on except Jack's brother threw on hell of a fit on Zachariah's ass but I think he…I just recall pain and then my memories were like sent into overload or something."

Nodding, Dean kept his arm loose even as he was struggling not to tense. He knew what had happened and it gave him another reason to hurt that fat braggart. "I'm sorry he hurt you just to get at us," he murmured, feeling her lean closer as if his presence would ease the pain. "This crap, the Angels, Lucifer and stuff, is one of the reasons I…I was sort of glad you stayed away from me and Sam. Having Sammy hurt has always been one thing but you…I don't want you involved."

"Little late, luv," she replied tightly, not understanding this pain because it was hurting where she didn't have any wounds. "I kinda got involved when I stopped those hunters from killing Sammy a few months ago…which by the way, I so owe you for leaving him on his own to even get nailed by them."

Figuring that was coming, Dean decided to avoid that topic in favor of one he wanted. "Tell me about what happened between you and Dad," he suggested softly, hearing a bang from the other part of the house and hoping Castiel wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be.

As the pain slowly eased, Morgan recognized the technique he was using as the one he'd tried when they were younger and wanted his way. "No," she refused tightly, starting to pull away but his arm tightened to keep her against him. "Dean, not while Sam's…"

"Until I get an idea on where he's at, neither of us are much good to Sammy. Zachariah's going to use his memories against him and Sam's worst ones right now, the ones that have been bugging him are a cross between losing Jo and Ellen in Carthage and losing you," he countered firmly, using his other hand to lift her face to him. "Angel, it's been fifteen years. You don't want to get into the night you left, fine. Then tell me what the hell set you and Dad at each other's throats because before that all happened…he was coping with you as my friend. I woke up after that whole mess in Flagstaff with Sam and I know I went to sleep at Pastor Jim's, I woke up in a cabin in the Nevada mountains. Tell me how you found out about it."

Forced to look into her friend's green eyes, Morgan bit her lip. Too tired to argue with him anymore and figuring he did deserve to know why Sam blamed himself so much.

"Jim called me when he saw how badly you were hurt and because Sam was so scared," she sighed, voice low as if usually was when she was tired or hurt too seriously and she let him settle them back against the headboard. "Sammy already blamed himself, Dean. He knew John had hurt you because he ran away and he had a damn bruise on his arm and on his neck that sort of pissed me off…before I had even seen what you looked like."

"Sam had marks on him?" Dean frowned, not recalling that but also knowing that he barely remembered much of anything from the moment his Dad had stormed out of their motel room to hunt down his youngest son to when he woke up fully a week later with only Morgan and his brother with him. "He didn't when I woke up."

Lifting her head enough to roll her eyes, Morgan smiled sadly. "You'd been out with a fever and infection for over a week, slick. I'd made damn bloody certain that his injuries were gone as soon as I got back from…"

"From where, Morgan?" Dean pounced on her hesitation, seeing her fingers reach for her neck as if searching for something and guessed what it was. "What happened when Jim called you?" he asked, figuring on her temper when she'd seen Sammy and guessing it probably tripled if Jim had let her see his own injuries. "Shit. You went to Dad, didn't you? That's how Sammy and I ended up with you and not Pastor Jim. You went after my Dad, didn't you, Morgan?"

He didn't sound angry. In fact, Dean didn't really sound surprised either. His tone was more of realization as some of the tension left him though he couldn't say why the thought of his then fourteen year old friend going to confront his probably still furious Father didn't scare the hell out of him, he couldn't say. "What happened, Angel?" he asked more gently this time, letting his hand begin to card through her long hair as he used to. "Something went on that day between you and Dad…he saw your powers."

Letting her eyes settle on the gold amulet he still wore, she didn't reply to that for a long while until he tugged gently on a strand of hair.

"Tell me," he felt the sigh more than hear it and knew he'd won this battle even before he heard her start to speak…

**Flashback: the back country of Wyoming 1995:**

"Sooo, you gonna tell what burr crawled up your ass and where Ace is?" Caleb asked easily, ignoring the warning looks Bobby was sending him and the seething anger still coming off John Winchester. "I thought you'd drop Sammy off with Jim but Dean normally comes with you."

Having joined up with the two other hunters just that morning after an all night drive, John was still furious at his sons behavior and it showed. "Until Dean learns how to be a proper hunter and grows up some he won't be going anywhere," he snapped, looking over the file that Bobby had given him.

"Learns to be…" Caleb blinked, hearing the anger but ignoring it. "Since when isn't he a proper hunter? He's nearly as good as me, at least so…"

"Let it drop, Caleb," John growled, glancing at the knuckles of his right fist to still see the bruises and scabs. "Dean screwed up something vital so…"

Bobby had been watching the man closely since he showed up and wasn't caring for the way he was acting or the bloody shirt in the rear of the Impala. "Dean hurt, John?" he asked suddenly, recognizing the shirt as his.

"Mind your own business, Singer," John growled, refusing to look up until Bobby's hand slammed down on the hood of his beat up car. "Bobby…"

"What the hell happened, John?" the grizzled hunter wanted to know as Caleb looked on. "I tried to call your motel but got no answer even though when I talked to you, you said Dean was there. Caleb said the last time he talked to the kid he sounded agitated, now you show up after dropping both boys with Jim and won't talk about it."

"Because it's my goddamn business what happens with my sons and how I handle Dean's stupidity!" the other man snapped, seeing his friend's back go rigid and he sighed. "Look, Bobby, let it drop. Dean's fine. He's…whoa!"

A sudden but highly trained burst of wind blew through the thin pack of trees the hunters had gathered in to physically throw a startled John off his feet and a good thirty meters away to land hard against the trunk of a huge tree, pinned there as if held by an invisible hand.

"Yeah, funny how your definition of fine might differ from that of a bleedin' sane person, old man."

Grabbing Caleb's wrist before the younger hunter could draw his sidearm, Bobby looked over his shoulder to see a young girl standing there watching them with curious blue eyes. Blue eyes that he noticed were sparking with power and he suddenly had an idea who they were dealing with and he wondered what the hell Jim Murphy hadn't told him.

"Pull the gun and eat it, mate," Morgan warned as she walked past the men until she was about a foot from John, cocking her head in a way that reminded Bobby of Dean.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester. We need to have a little chat…about your sons, or at least one of them," she began calmly, not appearing concerned that she was amidst three hunters as she went on. "You might remember me. We met a couple times at Jim's place. I'm a…friend to your sons, which is more than I can honestly say for you right now."

John shook his head to clear it, quickly realizing that he was pinned to the tree as he looked up at her with narrowing eyes as recognition struck. "You? Your…" he grunted as the same invisible force seemed to shove him harder.

"Umm, Bobby?" Caleb coughed, scratching the back of his neck. "This wouldn't happen to be the sweet, adorable, funny, cute little British girl that Ace's been going on and on about, would it?" he asked curiously, seeing the way the ends of her hair had started to appear as if they were floating.

"Yep, that's her," Bobby nodded, having met the girl on Sam's last birthday since Jim had arranged to have a little something for the boy and the hunter had instantly noticed that Dean had been paying more attention to her than anything else.

"Uh-huh." the younger man considered it, having no doubt as to what he was looking at. "Damn, Ace sure picks one hellava spitfire to fall for, didn't he?" he mused, leaning against the car to watch. "Hell, she can chew our boy up and spit him out."

Recalling something Jim had told him, Bobby laughed. "She did that already, according to Jim."

"Hey!" Morgan threw a glare back over her shoulder at them, clearing disgusted. "That was not my fault," she argued, shrugging. "I was after a zombie and Dean stuck his foot in my op. Now shut up while I decide if I want to fry this son of a bitch."

Head still ringing but clear, John gritted his teeth as he struggled to move. "What…are you?"

"What I am isn't your issue, John," she replied tightly, moving a hand to throw him back harder against the rough tree bark. "The issue is whether or not I burn you for what you've done. You see, I agreed with Jim to steer clear of the boys when you were home because hey, I know you're a hunter, I have powers, which you wouldn't have found out about if you hadn't decided to make Dean look like a bloody raw steak run through a meat grinder!"

The girl's words were said loud enough for both other hunters to hear and Bobby stood straighter but didn't take a step, keeping a tight hand on Caleb.

"I ignored the bruises I'd see on Dean. Oh, I knew he was lying when he said he'd fallen in training or took a hit wrong with something or the other but I let it go until this time," Morgan went on coldly, seeing the dark fury in the man's eyes. "Seeing Sam scared and shaking because it was his fault his brother was hurt is one strike against you but seeing every damn welt, boot print, bruise or open cut on Dean? Serious second strike and one that would, if you were anyone else would have had you dead the second I touched Dean and saw what you did to him!" she snapped, accent vanishing as her voice turned cold and she knelt down while pulling the very same knife she had on Dean one night. Only this time, she was fairly certain it would see blood.

"It's…none…of your business," he gritted, anger still there but something in her eyes was warning him also. "My boy…so I can punish as…argh!"

An invisible fist gripped his throat as Morgan's blue eyes darkened to a near midnight blue while power sparked from her fingers. "Let me make one thing very clear to you. You will never put your hands on either Dean or Sammy ever again," she declared very firmly, locking eyes with the senior Winchester to be sure he understood. "You are breathing clean air this time because of them. You are still alive, despite what my heart is telling me, because I won't hurt Dean by killing you. For some reason that bloody escapes me, he loves you."

Morgan shook her head wryly. "He doesn't see what you're doing to him, what you've done to Sam but he loves you so you live to breathe and hunt another day," she paused to tighten the fist around his throat until she was certain she had his full attention. "So, this is how it's going to play out. You're going to have your little hunt here with Bobby and the kid with the attitude and then you're going to go on another hunt, and another hunt. You are not going back to Blue Earth for your sons. In fact, you're going to leave your sons alone for the entire goddamn summer," she told him calmly, seeing him start to throw a curse or objection her way and merely moved a hand to cut off his air. "You aren't going to come anywhere near them until it's time for Sam to start school. By then you'd better have come to understand that you have one more strike going for you and if you ever touch either of them, if you ever touch Dean again like this, I will kill you," she promised, standing up easily but not releasing him yet. "Don't bother threatening Jim either because he won't know where they are. When Dean and Sam are ready to come back, they'll go to Bobby's place and he can call you but not until Dean says so and not until Sammy loses the haunted look in those big eyes."

Walking away, Morgan paused to look back at the still pinned and seething John, knowing that perhaps she'd made a mistake in one way but not doubting that protecting her friends was more important than their Dad learning about her.

"You trust him with a gun this hunt and you're off your rocker, Singer," she spoke to Bobby as she passed, only tensing as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Not wise."

"How bad's the boy hurt?" he asked, knowing by the way her eyes dropped that John had went over the line that he warned him not to cross. "John'll look for them."

Shrugging, she decided to wait until she was gone to release the hold. "He can look but all he'll find will be my friends and that won't be fun because they don't like hunters. Once I tell them why I'm taking the boys away for awhile, John Winchester will be lucky if a Wendigo eats him," she smiled at the thought, turning to look at the bearded hunter and read his honest concern. "Talk to Jim. He'll tell you about Dean. I won't ask you to trust me because now that you've seen me do that I know trust is out but I hope you know that I won't hurt Dean or Sammy. I…well, Sam's a cute kid with an annoying, obnoxious brother so…shut up."

Bobby quickly elbowed Caleb who had been humming a tune about marriage, kissing, and trees under his breath and then laughed. "Riiight, and she ain't as hung up on Ace as he is on her," he snorted, waving his hands as he headed to help John up as soon as he could move. "Want me to slam his head into a tree?"

"No, I plan on doin' that," Bobby growled, looking back at the big blue eyes in front of him to nod. "Get going. I'll give Jim a holler later to find out what the hell's happening."

The small smile was sweet and a bit shy as she seemed to look up and call to someone before disappearing and with a gasp, John was shoving to his feet only to have Caleb slam him back.

"Let go!" John snapped, furious that he'd been so foolish as to let his son get mixed up with… "I need to get back to…"

"You're not going anywhere except maybe to the ER, John," Bobby growled, taking his hat off which was Caleb's signal to get the hell out of the way. "I've warned you before not to loose your damn temper with those boys and I told you after that one damn time that I'd beat the crap outta you if Dean ever had a mark on him that couldn't be explained…well, I think that little visit tells me that he has more than a few. You're going to hunt with us and then you and I are going to Jim's and if I don't like what he tells me, you'll be spending the summer in a goddamn bodycast!" he snapped, throwing one punch that knocked John out cold. "Damn idjit Winchesters!"

Caleb gazed at the unconscious form of his mentor, pursing his lips as if in thought before nodding and looking up at Bobby. "I like her. If her and Dean don't kill one another, I think he should marry her and have little Dean's…no, on second thought, the world can't take more than one Dean Winchester."

**Flashback, Blue Earth, Montana, 1995:**

"Why's Dean so hot, Pastor Jim?" twelve year old Sam Winchester was asking, tears brimming in his large hazel eyes as he hovered by his brother's bed while Jim Murphy worked on cooling the boy off after his fever had spiked. "Why's he crying? What's wrong?"

Struggling not to snap out a reply to the frightened boy, Jim was trying to find an answer that wouldn't scare him more when he felt the air change again and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Do I need to prepare for triage or a burial?"

"Neither, he got off with maybe a bleedin' concussion and some tree bark burn from me. I can't promise what Singer does to him though," Morgan replied, stepping into the bedroom to kneel down just as Sam again went straight for her. "Sammy, it's okay. Jim's taking care of Dean and I have a surprise for you," she whispered in his ear.

Wiping his eyes, the younger Winchester was unaware when he snuggled into the girl's arms after she led him to the other bed to sit on it while Jim continued to wipe a feverish Dean down.

Now that the blood had been cleaned off, she could see the more livid bruises and the spot where he clearly had a broken rib and Morgan bit her lip to keep from cursing as she focused on Sam. Gently stroking a hand over his hair, she eased him closer. "You, Dean and I are going to go someplace until Dean's feeling better," she told him, seeing his eyes grow wider but also caught Jim's look but ignored him. "You know where Nevada is, right?"

"It's hot and has deserts," Sam nodded, frowning. "Dad hunted something there one time. He yelled at De'n cause I got sick from the heat."

A bowl cluttered as Jim dropped it too heavily but Morgan smiled. "Yeah, but Nevada also has mountains and high in the mountains there's snow for awhile and…that's where we're going," she told the boy, watching as his eyes seemed to be calming down. "High in the mountains in a cabin so you can play in the snow, build a snowman and…maybe after he's better, toss a snowball at your big brother."

"We haven't been in the snow in…" Sam thought for awhile but couldn't quite recall the last time they'd stayed something long enough to play in the snow. His Dad never allowed him to do that and that made him frown again. "Will…will Dad let us go though? He said we had to stay here or else he'll hurt…"

Smile tightening, Morgan ran a gentle hand down his arm but paused over the bruise to picture it gone in her mind…which was something she planned to do with Dean as soon as she lost the Holy Man. "No, Sammy. Your Daddy's going to be hunting with Bobby for a long while so you and Dean are gonna come with me for a few months until he's better."

"Dad…said okay?" Sam was amazed but too happy just to be with his brother and new friend that he really didn't care. "Thanks, Morgan!" he threw his arms around her neck in a bone crushing hug that made her laugh. "Dean'll get better cause you're here! I know it!"

"Yeah, Dean'll get better," Morgan assured him, feeling Jim's eyes. "Sam, how about going to check your duffel to see what you might need before we go?" she suggested but the boy was already out of the room. "Yeah, keeping him still will be fun. Alright, you want to say what you've been dying to?"

Jim Murphy had known she'd probably do this but wasn't sure if she understood the risks. "I know you have people who can help take care of Dean so that doesn't worry me," he began grimly, wiping the dried blood from his hands before laying the back of one hand on the teenage boy's head to feel the fever still raging. "I'm more concerned on what John will do once the boys go back…if he leaves them that long."

"He'll leave 'em alone if he knows what's good for him," she shrugged, looking over to see a young dark haired man about twenty had appeared in the room. "I know he won't be happy with me and…staying with them after I take 'em to Bobby's is a huge debate but right now, Jim, all I want is them someplace safe. Someplace that Sam can play like a real twelve year old."

"Just be careful, Morgan," Jim urged, seeing the doubt on the new arrival's face. "I'll handle John and Bobby but you be careful."

Laughing, Morgan ran a hand down Dean's back and as she did so, some of the more serious bruises seemed to lessen. "Jim, they're my friends. I'll protect them or die trying," she replied then went to find Sam.

"It's the die trying part that worries me," Devan MacShayne muttered, knowing he was there to act as transportation to Kelly's family cabin in the mountains above Taho. "She's in too deep to know what she'll lose if this backfires, Jim."

"They both are," Jim sighed, looking as Dean twisted restlessly in the fever but then settled a second before Morgan and Sam reentered and he wanted to swear violently as he realized what was happening but could only pray it worked out for all three of them. "May God protect you all," he whispered after Devan worked his power and he was alone in his house wondering how long he had until Bobby called.

**Present Day, Birkstown, West Virginia:**

"Damn," Dean whispered, recalling bits and pieces of feverish dreams but the one solid memory he had was that no matter when he'd open his eyes, even fevered and delirious, Morgan was always beside him. He remembered the night he'd come to fully and found his little brother curled up beside him, covered in a blanket while the teenage girl sat in a chair by the bed.

Right then what stood out in his mind was that his friend had faced down his Father without care or thought to the danger to herself…only to…

"Sonuvabitch," he groaned, looking down to see that Morgan had gone silent but had remained against his side even though he could feel the tears fall on his hand. "He could've hurt you," he finally spoke, shocked that he could keep an even tone.

"No, he couldn't," she replied quietly, not looking up at him as she went to wipe the annoying tears away when the back of his knuckles brushed them away before lifting her face up to meet his eyes. "So long as I was prepared, I could handle him and I figured Bobby wouldn't get involved."

Nodding, Dean figured that much as well but also wondered just how much the older man really knew about things when something else hit him. "If you were prepared?" he repeated, beginning to get a picture in his mind and not liking it. "You weren't prepared for Dad at Bobby's were you? Dad came too soon and you hadn't recovered full strength from the mountains or from those damn truckers at the diner that day…" when she didn't respond or deny, Dean knew he was on the right track. So with a leap of faith he moved his hand up to carefully slid the collar of her loose and ragged sweatshirt aside to look at her right shoulder and seen the jagged white thin scar of what he knew was a knife wound. "I have the knife that did this, don't I?" he asked her softly. "Dad's knife made this scar, didn't it?"

"Let it go, Dean," Morgan whispered, not wanting this right then when she suddenly felt a brief burst of pain shoot through her head but then it was gone. "You want to know about that night? Fine, but after we get Sam back and after we're someplace else. I just want to be someplace else with…Oh!" a burst of fire like pain took her off guard and she grabbed for her head a second before the rest of her seemed to follow in agony. "Dean!"

Taken off guard by the young woman's sudden cry of pain, Dean was quick to ease her down on the bed but kept his hand firm on her shoulder in order to still her from trembling. "Morgan? What's wrong?" he demanded, not liking the near panic in her eyes or by the way she was shaking. "Where's it hurt or…"

"It's not her pain, Dean," Castiel spoke from the door, looking grimmer than normal. "She is feeling Sam."

"She had a link with me, not Sam," he argued, seeing her grab for his arm. "Angel, talk to me or tell me what's wrong and I'll make it stop."

Fighting for breath now, she could see the unwanted images flashing in her mind and she wasn't sure if the tears were now of pain or fear for what she was seeing. "Dean…" she managed to grip his hand tight. "Sammy…oh, God…he's hurt."

Feeling his heart nearly jump out of his chest at those words, Dean forced down his first reaction to just go and tear apart the town until he found his little brother but he knew that wouldn't work. "Okay, where is he, babe?" he asked, already knowing she knew that answer and why. "They hurting him so you'd feel him? You can fell Sam? Like you can…could feel me?"

"Still…feel…you, stupid," she hissed, needing to keep her focus on Dean's eyes so she didn't close her own and see the bloody images being forced on her. "Just feel…Sam a little less because…he's…yours."

"Ours," Dean corrected automatically and without doubt as he gripped her hand in both of his. "Sammy's ours just like when he was twelve. Yours and mine, babe and I'll get our Sammy back but I need you to show me where he is."

Castiel knew that was a bad idea even as Morgan was trying to refuse but Dean's fingers touched her face in a way that told the Angel that this was between them.

"I know, but it's the only way to find him without me going postal on the soon to be ex-Sheriff and while I'm willing to do whatever it takes to find Sam, that's not something either of us would want me to do," he told her, letting his thumb brush over her mouth. "Angel, trust me. I can handle finding him without getting myself and Sammy killed. Show me, please."

Hating this idea, another wave of painful images shot and she could hear her friend screaming for Dean. "Keep your head," she hissed, turning his hand so their palms touched and opening the link that she'd been shielding him from so he could get the basic images of location but not all of what she was sure that bastard of an Angel wanted him to see.

"Sam," Dean whispered, seeing more than he knew she'd intended he was quick to soothe as Morgan suddenly went limp. "Morgan?" he gently felt for a pulse and finding one, reached for the blanket to cover her. "I'll find him," he promised softly, feeling her fingers try to hold on. "You're staying here."

"You…can't go in…there alone," she argued, too weak to do him any good but also knowing he was walking straight into a damn trap. "Dean…they're waiting for you."

"I know and I won't disappoint 'em," he shrugged, seeing the fear but also the shock as he knelt next to the bed to take something from his pocket and close her hand around his mother's necklace. "I'm putting this back on you as soon as I get Sammy back here," Dean remarked, hesitating before leaning over to kiss her fully as a thought nibbled the back of his head that said this might be his last chance. "Be safe, babe."

Looking over at Castiel he shook his head as the Angel followed his quick strides. "You're staying with her until Jack gets back," he ordered, not wanting to leave Morgan alone while she was this weak because he wouldn't put it past Zachariah to make a move on her again. "I'm going for Sam and God take the first son of a bitch who gets in my way," he growled, slamming the door of the Impala before Castiel could object and sent stones and dirt flying as the car burned away.

"Cas!" Jack MacShayne snapped just as the Angel was reentering the house to check on his current change only to see that she'd made it as far as the living room before collapsing. "You need to zap Winchester the hell back here!"

"That would be both dangerous and unwise given Dean's current state of mind, Jack," he told his nephew dryly.

Morgan was batting the mystic off while she fought to regain her legs, knowing that Dean needed help and while she couldn't stand real well and was seeing three of everything, she did have enough power maybe to protect him and Sam. "Told ya," she shot at her mystic who growled at her in a dead language even as Cas was chastising her about being out of bed. 

"Guys!" Jack finally shouted to be heard over what Morgan was calling Castiel, only going on once he was certain he had full attention and when he did it was in a much quieter and somber tone. "Dean's not walking into a trap," he replied grimly, eyes dark. "He's walking into a goddamn massacre because… Lucifer has been summoned. He's here for his vessel and this time, he's not going to leave without it."

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Sorry for the update delay. This one grew bigger than I thought it would. So, what can I say? Lucifer. Zachariah. Demented humans that Dean never has understood. Will our boys survive the coming chapter in one piece or will a certain former Archangel have a say in all this? Can Morgan and Castiel help Dean before he loses more than his life or body? Come back for Chapter 6 to find out…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Six**

Lucifer.

Morgan's breath stopped at that single name as all the rest of her strength seemed to leave, falling into a chair as what Jack MacShayne said sank in. "We have to follow Dean. He needs help," she spoke aloud but not to either mystic or Angel in particular.

"He's needed help since you first sent me to save his ass a couple months ago," Jack snorted, raising a hand in apology as her eyes seemed to spark at him. "Sorry, but he's just walked himself into a situation that I'm not sure he can get himself or his brother out of."

Understanding what he was saying finally, she pushed up from the chair to reach for the bag that she'd brought out of the bedroom with her. "Screw you, Jack," she muttered, digging into the bag to find what she hoped was still there. "I'm going to go help my friends, with or without you."

"Boss, you may have both the ability and a weapon that'll kill an Angel but this is Lucifer," Jack remarked seriously. "Even at top power and when you're not ripped to shreds I don't think you can stand up to him and survive. It's not worth…Morgan!" he snapped a second before she could hurl the tiny, weak looking energy ball at him. "That wouldn't even have singed me! All that power will do is make Lucifer laugh before he kills you now think about this and what's important."

Touching the 9mm Browning that she was relieved that Dean or Sam found, she dug for the knife before looking up at the Angel. "Dean's got my knife, doesn't he?"

"I know he has a knife on him that isn't the one he usually carries and it gives me a headache so…" Castiel replied slowly, seeing his nephew roll his eyes. "Why does she have that knife, Jack?"

"Don't know," he admitted, shrugging. "You'd have to ask my little brother since that was when he was flying solo with her. Boss, if you go into this…"

Morgan decided to settle for the pistol while struggling to stay upright as her back seared. "You can help Dean," she missed the way her friend's face pinched slightly at the very idea. "You helped him before and…"

"With Zachariah, sure," Jack nodded, feeling very much like throwing his hands up in helpless frustration. "Morgan, listen to me. With the way my powers are flip-flopping since the start of the Apocalypse I'd be lucky to handle a large group of enforcers, Zachariah and whatever mortals he's using as cannon fodder this week. There is no way in Hell that I could take on Lucifer."

"Fine, then go back where you came from then because I don't want you here if you can't help me help my friends," she returned coldly, refusing to feel the panic that was setting in at the thoughts of Dean being alone to face not only a horde of Heavenly enforcers but who knows what else on top of Lucifer himself getting involved. "Who the bloody hell called Lucifer anyway? He can't find Sam on his own thanks to the wonderful engraving the dude in the trench coat did to their ribs…which by the way, I should make you hurt for the pain that caused them."

Castiel opened his mouth his reply only to have Jack shoot him a warning look to shut the hell up. "More than likely Zach let the word slip out knowing that Lucifer has his spies looking for Sam…though I don't think he's counting on him showing up in person or what that'll bring anyway but the odds of the Winchesters surviving this are slim to none, Morgan," the mystic told her grimly.

"No, because so long as I'm still alive they'll always have a chance," Morgan replied, opting to forget the jacket due to her wounds and grabbed Castiel by the sleeve. "Sam's hurt because I got them into this crap and I'll get both Dean and Sam out of it or die trying. Now, Angel boy, you're gonna help me get to Dean or not?"

Walking out without giving the Angel a chance to reply, Castiel let his dark eyes slide to Jack without speaking until he was about to follow Morgan before the young woman tried something foolish on her own. "You know that you have the power to help Dean, Jack," he remarked calmly. "You were never a coward so I have to wonder why you're afraid to confront Lucifer when you've been in the face of the more powerful Angels in the Garrison. She will give her life for the Winchesters and how do you think Dean will react to that?"

Vanishing without another word to leave Jack to stir restlessly in the now silent house until his fist clenched and a large crack appeared in a wall. "Damn it!" he snarled, disappearing with a wave of his hand and swearing this was the last time he ever got too close to a mortal. They weren't worth the hassle.

**Back on the Tolson Property:**

"He's losing consciousness too often even after he's healed, sir," a dark suited enforcer informed Zachariah grimly. "We can't kill a vessel but I fear the boy's mind has been too fractured to survive much more of the mortals torments."

Scratching his chin in thought, the bald Angel considered that as he crossed the sawdust coated dirt floor of the rundown looking barn toward where the Tolson boys were continuing their fun.

In all honesty, Zachariah hadn't planned on it taking this long. He had figured on Sam Winchester giving up shielding the link some time ago and had expected to be facing a hotheaded Dean by now. Only the younger man had held up far longer than he'd been expected to and now it was getting boring.

"Leave him!" he snapped, waving a hand and the three Tolson brothers were quick to move away from the sturdy work table. "Sam, I have to give you credit for being almost as big a pain in my ass as your brother," Zachariah sighed, casually picking up a bloody knife that one of the boys had been using to cut on Sam's flesh. The Angel had lost count of the times he'd healed the boy back to new…or almost as new since he left the emotional damage to rack up.

Now as he stood over Sam to casually check that the heavy leather straps still held him securely to the bloodied table, Zachariah took a deeper look.

While they had healed Sam's body physically after every serious wound or once the wounds had piled up and he was as close to death as Zachariah was willing to risk, he could feel the inner struggle to hold on to strength and sanity was waning.

"Dean's not coming, Sam," he remarked calmly, forcing Sam awake by placing a hand over his chest where his heart beat and allowing pressure to build until the young Winchester was struggling against the restraints and for breath. "You've failed him far too much this time for him to ride to your rescue. I mean, after sacrificing his very life for you, going to Hell for forty years only to come back to find you'd betrayed everything he ever gave for you by siding with that demon whore. Drinking demon blood and setting loose evil incarnate upon the world," Zachariah clucked his tongue in disappointment while grabbing a handful of limp, sweat and blood soaked hair to jerk Sam's head up even though the hazy, cloudy eyes that were looking at him showed barely any recognition, much less true life. "You tried to kill Dean and even though he promised to hunt you like the evil bastard you'd become he still trusted you again and all that did was get his friends slaughtered at Lucifer's hands. Then there's Dean's pretty little friend who, just to get you where I needed you to be, had to be hurt. Who do you think is more important to Dean, Sam?" he asked with a mocking smile. "You or pretty Miss Morgan? I mean, he's with her and allowing you to be hurt like this so I guess there's your answer, boy. Your big brother's letting you die, Sam."

Barely aware of where he was much less who the bald, pudgy guy bragging was, Sam's inner self screamed to fight, to hold on because he knew Dean would come because Dean had never once let him down but another part, the part that had been riddled with doubts and fears for months told a different tale. One that was making him break and wish for it all just to be over.

The inner part of Sam that was fighting to shield his already fractured mind dug up the one memory that he could cling to. He clung to the memories of the summer he was twelve, to the warmth he had felt, the security he had finally had that time. He remembered playing in the snow drifts in the mountains for hours and even though Morgan had spent a great deal of her time with Dean while he was recovering, she'd always made time to play with him. He had never felt that she was just humoring him because he was Dean's little brother. Both Dean and Morgan had taken care of him that summer and though he didn't like the memory of the events in the diner, the first time he had fully seen what his friend could do, he had never doubted that he'd always be safe. Now, as he fought for sanity against the agony coursing through a body that had been broken nearly beyond repair, he clung to those memories.

"Poor lost little boy. All alone and abandoned," Zachariah went on, digging the tip of the knife suddenly into Sam's upper right shoulder to drag to downward past his elbow and smiling thinly at the ragged scream that he received. "Abandoned by Mommy and Daddy, now your big brother has left you all alone and at the mercy of men who hurt you about as badly as either those rednecks or your Dad's pal did…oh, but Dean doesn't know about those, does he, Sam?"

Gasping against the pain and unaware of the choked sobs that had started, Sam's swollen eyes finally managed to look up at Zachariah with a mix of fear and hate. "De'n won't 'bandon me," he manage to get out brokenly. "He…won't."

"And why won't he, boy?" the Angel demanded with a sneer when the sound of a gunshot was heard and the Tolson boy closest to the table fell to the floor, clutching his side.

"Because he's my brother, you sadistic, cold blooded bastard," Dean Winchester's voice was cold as death when it spoke. "Now get the hell away from him!"

Seeing his oldest son fall, Milt Tolson went to grab his shotgun when Zachariah's harsh voice snapped out. "No one touches him!"

"He shot my boy!" Milt shouted, enraged that this smirking leather jacketed asshole could just saunter onto his property and harm one of his sons. "How'd he get past the guards or…"

"The same way I'm gonna take out the rest of you assholes," Dean shot back, holding the .45 in a steady grip and while he was taking count of every possible threat in the room his gaze was locked on the still form on his baby brother strapped to a table, the blood he could see and the wounds he was afraid that he couldn't. "Step away from Sam…now."

With a sneer, Zachariah did step slightly off to one side but not far enough to not be a threat as he clapped loudly. "Congratulations, Dean. I'm honestly surprised it took you this long so you'll have to excuse the shape your little brother's in…mentally. I fear his mind just isn't as strong as that freakish body of his is…or was since I'm afraid even healing it so many times takes a toll."

"You son of a bitch," Dean gritted, hearing the sound of a pistol being cocked from nearby and simply shifting his aim to take out the arm of the would-be shooter. "If you want any of your in-bred kids to survive this, I'd tell 'em to back off!" he warned the older man.

"He's killing my family!" Milt screamed, not caring if the Angel smited him or not.

Zachariah turned an honest look of incredulity on the man. "Of course he is. What did you expect him to do? We've tortured his brother into a nearly mindless drooling vegetable, did you think Dean was just going to stroll in here for brunch?" he demanded, rolling his eyes to the heavens as if asking for help. "I'm shocked he didn't gun in guns blazing as I expected him to."

"I know you did so that's why I didn't," Dean replied, taking a cautious step toward his brother while trying to keep an eye on both regular human issues and the half a dozen or so enforcers that were spread out in the barn. "Sammy?" he called, not liking when he didn't get even a weak response. "I am so gonna find a way to kill you."

"You can try but only Angels can kill other Angels, Dean and you don't have that power…yet," Zachariah smiled smugly. "Now, once you say yes to Michael…that may be a different story but then you won't have much say."

Keeping an eye on the smug Angel that had been a thorn in his side since he pulled that first crap stunt by altering his and Sam's lives and memories, Dean kept his .45 aimed but reached to pull his knife with the other hand. "I ain't saying yes to Michael, douchebag and you ought to know that by now," he growled, risking shifting his attention slightly to look down at Sam to see that while his brother's eyes were open to only slits they seemed blank, none of the expressiveness that Sam's eyes had always had. "You, get the straps off my brother," he snapped at the other Tolson son.

A big, brawny man in his late twenties, he sneered as he pulled a large jagged edge blade. "What if I slit his damn throat for you shooting my brothers?" he challenged.

"Fine," Dean's Colt fired without a second thought to kill the big mouth Tolson before redirecting his aim to the Father. "Looks like I'm three for three. Now, get these damn straps off of my brother before you join your sons in Hell!" he snapped, feeling the edge growing in the room.

"I thought you were going to kill him!" Milt yelled, not believing this was happening.

"Why would I want to kill Dean?" Zachariah scoffed, shaking his head as if addressing a slow child. "All of this drama was just to get Dean to come to me on his own so why would I kill him? He's going to say yes to a very important question or else he's going to watch me kill the most important person in his life."

That made Dean laugh even though a small part of him didn't like the look in the bald man's eyes. "You can't kill Sam, asshole," he remarked. "I think Lucifer would be upset if…"

"No, not Sam," Zachariah replied then waited until he saw the realization come into the young man's face. "You see, my nephews can't interfere this time. All of the mucking about Lucifer's done has caused such an upheaval in the mystic planes that Jack's abilities are sort of unstable. He can't come to bail you out this time and he can't protect that pretty little witch who means so much to you," he explained, casually brushing his nails against the lapels of his suit jacket as he went on. "You have no idea how pleased I was to find out that you weren't so single-minded, that you actually have feelings for that girl despite her powers and the fact that your very own father tried to kill her in front of Sam. Now, Milt's boys had an amusing time with her, let me tell you…"

Teeth gritting to keep from lunging for Zachariah's throat, Dean started to move when a moan made him look down to see Sam's eyes were rolling back. "Sammy!" he yelled, swearing under his breath.

Wanting to devote full attention his little brother, Dean knew the moment he lowered his weapon or turned his back he was done for but also knowing that he needed to get Sam free and out of this godforsaken place. "Sammy, stay with me!" he urged, shoving the .45 into his jeans but keeping the knife handy as he struggled to get the straps, slick with his brother's blood, to loosen. "Damn it!"

"Sam's a lost cause, Dean," Zachariah told him grimly, sighing melodramatically. "He's only good for one thing now but I suppose I could spare him and your whore…for a price, of course."

For a price that Dean already knew with one hundred percent certainty what it was. "Let me guess, if I say yes to Michael you'll be generous and spare my brother and Morgan?"

"And they said you were the stupid one," the Angel smiled before he became fully serious. "You say yes, you let Michael wear you like a cheap suit and get this little Armageddon thing on the road and yes, I'll…spare them."

Thinking of the damage that Zachariah and his cronies really could do to Morgan and to Sam, made Dean sick to his stomach but the thought of giving in to Michael…of losing himself and…any chance of a future also made him feel ill.

"The longer you wait, the more Sam slips away until not even my power of that of that accursed girl can bring him back," Zachariah sang out cheerfully, seeing the boy's shoulders slump. "Dean…?

"Give me a damn minute with him!" he snapped, violently slashing at his burning eyes as he turned his back on the room of enemies to kneel down next to his brother.

Seeing his chance, Milt Tolson went to aim his shotgun when an enforcer grabbed him by the throat. "I said, we don't want him dead," Zachariah spoke coldly, malice and hate for the human race plain in his eyes. "You were good while you and your boys served a purpose, Milt. Don't make me have you killed yet. I might have further use for you. Give the boy his precious few remaining moments with his poor little brother," he smiled, knowing the truth of what Sam's fate really was.

"Sammy?" reaching up to card trembling fingers through his brother's hair, Dean fought the urge to puke when he felt the mess of blood and he didn't want to know what else matted Sam's too long hair. "It'll be alright, kiddo," he promised tightly, using a nickname that he hadn't used since Sam was small and in need of reassurance. "I'll make sure you and Morg are safe before I do this and she'll look after you like she always did when I couldn't."

Swallowing hard but not bothering to hide the tears that slid freely as he gently loosened the straps holding Sam captive on the bloody table before lightly squeezing a limp hand, not getting a response which he figured might have been a good thing considering what he was planning on doing. Failing to protect the people he loved was one thing, but failing while his little brother watched was something that Dean just couldn't do.

"You stay with Morgan, Sam," he murmured, images flashing unhindered of another time and place in their loves and he smiled a little. "Remind her that you still can't have sugar and Sam?" for this he leaned in closer to whisper something that he prayed his brother could hear in whatever place he'd retreated to then straightened to again look at Sam's bruised, but peaceful looking face and said something he rarely ever let himself say out loud. "I…I love you, little brother."

Closing his eyes briefly, Dean whispered the same words but with a different infliction to someone else while hoping that link was strong enough to carry it and wishing it could've been different. "Alright," he sighed, tightening his grip on the knife he'd kept hidden when he turned. "Let's do it."

"Excellent!" Zachariah clapped his hands in excitement, motioning to the closest enforcer. "All you have to do is say yes, you'll accept Michael and we'll be done with this nasty business while…"

"Oh, were you under the impression that I was saying 'yes'?" Dean asked curiously, shrugging. "Sorry, asshole but that still isn't happening."

As the bald, arrogant Angel's mouth dropped in rage, the enforcer who was closest went to grab the human only to have Dean whirl and while he knew the knife wouldn't kill the suit wearing Holy roller, he was hoping it might buy him the time he needed.

Knowing all this, Dean was rather shocked when the blade struck the enforcer across the throat and a brilliant light exploded from the wound as he fall back, dead. "Whoa," Dean breathed, taken off guard by this development.

"That's not possible!" Zachariah screamed, rage making his already hateful expression even more so. "Where did you get that knife, boy?" he demanded.

"Huh, yeah remind me to ask Morgan where the hell she got it," Dean muttered, quick to move before another of Milt Tolson's people could take him down with a tackle. "Kind of evens the odds a little though, doesn't it?"

Enraged that this mortal sack of meat was screwing up his well-laid plans…again, Zachariah snarled. "Take him alive and kill the other one!" he snapped at either enforcer or human. "Lucifer can just find another goddamn vessel!"

That made Dean pay closer attention and wishing that he should've told Castiel to show up sometime since now that he had enraged the Angels and had already gotten on the Tolson family's bad side, things were not looking too good for either of the brothers.

"Sam!" he whirled to slash the knife at a suited goon who had gone close to his brother when Dean found himself slammed across the barn into a wall of heavy metal tools, stunning him and also making him drop the knife. "No…damn it!" he tried to shake the cobwebs loose when he was suddenly doubled over in pain as it felt like a foot caved in his entire midsection.

"That was stupid, boy," Zachariah snarled, reaching down to grab him by the throat and slammed him back against a sharp bladed saw blade that nearly missed slicing him. "Now, instead of having your precious brother and friend safe, I'll make certain you watch them both die in agony before I hand you to Michael gift wrapped," he promised, ignoring the weak attempts Dean made to break free as he hauled him upright and grabbed his face to he was forced to watch as Milt Tolson lifted a ragged blade to Sam's throat. "I hope that little show was worth it, Dean. Now, you can say goodbye to your brother as he bleeds out."

Straining against Zachariah's grip, Dean fought panic as he watched the blade start to draw across Sam's throat and he was helpless to stop it until the barn doors were blasted open and Milt Tolson's head exploded in a wash of brain matter and blood.

Dean's relief at a possible last minute rescue was short lived when he heard the voice that spoke even before the tall, slender man stepped into the barn.

"I think I should take exception to this, don't you?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Dean groaned, feeling the grip on his throat and stomach lessening in the Angels shock. "Can my week get worse?"

"Hello, Dean," Lucifer, still in his current vessel Nick's body, looked around the barn curiously as if taking the scene in before his gentle looking eyes landed on Sam's prone, still strapped down body. Then his demeanor changed as he eyed Zachariah curiously. "Zachariah," he spoke the name as if it caused him a long suffering pain.

Shocked at the arrival of Lucifer and several demon minions, Zachariah had released his grip on Dean and had a look like a rabbit struck by headlights expression before he began to stutter. "L…Lucifer, I wasn't… I mean, I wasn't expecting you to…"

You thought I'd send someone when you leaked it that you had captured Sam Winchester?" sounding amused, Lucifer/Nick smiled as he stepped over a body of a guard Dean had dealt with on his way in.

Dean's only real meeting with Lucifer had been when Zach had shipped him five years into the past and that time, the Devil had been wearing Dean's own little brother…which was something that he vowed would never happen. Now, he noticed how badly this vessel was handling the strain as Nick's face showed the signs of wearing out under the immense power.

"That's because poor Nick isn't my true vessel, Dean," as if reading his thoughts, Lucifer smiled at the older brother almost kindly but his gaze returned to the sweating Angel. "Did you honestly think that a moment like this wouldn't require my personal attention?" he asked, seeming to look at the knife that laid near his foot before carefully stepping around it.

"No, no, of course not," Zachariah coughed, seeing that his enforcers were at a loss as to what they should do. "I'm pleased that you can use the boy. It is after all, my only job but to serve and…"

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You son of a bitch," his hissed, trying to pull himself up to get to his brother when a wave of energy that wasn't Zachariah's shoved him back and held him immobile.

"You serve whoever you think can give you power, Zachariah," Lucifer retorted, tsking lightly as he approached Sam slowly as if taking it all in. "Though, I should thank you for all your hard work in helping set me free. That alone should keep me from killing you but…" he stopped to lift a hand and the Angel gasped. "I don't appreciate what you've done to Sam. He was going to be a worthy challenge when I claimed him as my vessel and I looked forward to that inner struggle." he mused, lightly stroking a hand over the still bleeding would on Sam's arm to stop the bleeding. "Now, I'm not sure if he'll even have the brain capacity to say yes."

"An empty vessel will still work," Zachariah pointed out, quickly trying to think of a way to salvage this mess. "You can take the boy now without having to go through the normal channels since his mind is damaged beyond repair."

Listening to them talk about his brother enraged Dean more than he thought he could be since he'd held his little brother's limp body after Cold Oak and his death. "Sam's not brain dead!" he snapped, fighting to free himself from what he assumed was Lucifer's power. "You can't take his body without his damn consent and he won't give that! He won't…argh!" screaming raggedly as he felt something crack in his leg.

"Dean, don't make me kill you," Lucifer warned lightly, glancing over calmly before resuming his examination of Sam's limp form as the straps came free with a wave of a hand. "Sam loves you and for that reason I really don't want to kill you but if you keep interfering then I will," he promised, letting his hand rest on the younger Winchester's face. "Sam?" he called gently. "Wake up for me, Sam."

Fighting not to pass out from the pain in his leg, Dean strained harder to be free when he noticed his brother's hand move restlessly. "No," he whispered, letting his head slam back into the wall in frustration. He knew what was going to happen and was powerless to stop it. He was going to be helpless to do anything but watch as Lucifer claimed his little brother as his vessel and Dean had sworn after his trip into the future that he would see them both dead before he allowed that to happen.

As Sam's eyelids fluttered a few times before slowly opening, any emotion, light, or recognition was long gone during his hours of torment and agony. So all he did was stare up at the pale skinned, light haired man who was standing next to him while a small piece of him wanted to react to the other voice he heard but couldn't.

"Sam, I know you're hurt and you're scared but I can take all of that away," Lucifer spoke softly as if to a child and in some way he suspected that might be what or who he was addressing. "I can take all this bad pain away. I can take the fear and loneliness away from you and all you will know is peace," he promised, seeing a spark of something enter Sam's eyes and he quickly went on. "All you have to do to have that peace is just say one word for me, Sam. All you have to do is say yes and I can take all of this away from you."

"Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, groaning as he was slammed back and dropped to the floor with an Enforcer holding a blade to his throat. "Kill me, you sons of bitches because if you touch my brother I'll make damn certain it'll be the last thing you do!"

Lucifer smiled. "No, because we both know how this turns out, Dean," he spoke calmly, not caring what Zachariah or his people did to Dean because he had plans of his own as soon as he garnered that one perfect word. "I told you this would happen in Detroit, well, thanks to Zachariah's interference, it seems I was wrong about the location," he mused, returning his gaze to Sam. "Sam, say yes so all this pain will stop," he urged.

Sam's eyes seemed to clear for a brief second before clouding again but his lips did move soundlessly and as the enforcer raised his blade to kill the elder Winchester, both Lucifer and Zachariah leaned closer to hear Sam's whisper soft…

"ARGHH!" a sharp and intense burst of light burned the enforcer just as he was slashing his blade toward's Dean's neck even as, at the same moment, a soft blue light surrounded Sam and sent painful sparks against both arrogant Angel and former Archangel as both sought to get to the younger man.

"Yeah, like you'll get Sam's body in my lifetime."

**A/N: **Will Lucifer still claim Sam's body? How will either Winchester survive in a room filled with Angels under Zachariah's control and the Lord of Hell and his demons? Chapter 7 holds those answers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Seven**

"Yeah, like you'll get Sam's body in my lifetime,"

The softly accented voice that spoke took nearly everyone off guard except for one person…Dean Winchester. While he wasn't surprised, it did just take his panic level up another notch. "Morgan, no."

"So, any chance of convincing you to just go crawl back under whatever icy rock who crawled out from?" Morgan Harrison asked as she stepped into the barn fully, voice level and not showing any indication of concern over backtalking the Devil. "Oh, and since this is mine I'll just be taking it back, thanks."

The knife easily went from its spot on the floor to her outstretched hand and the way it shimmered when her hand closed on the hilt caused Lucifer to gaze at her with more interest while Zachariah's face took on an even more outraged look.

Taking another look at the soft blue lights that seemed to be protecting Sam Winchester, Lucifer looked at the pale auburn haired young woman who had just interfered in his plans. "The newest and most current Mistress of Shadow and Light, I take it?" he mused, glancing at Dean to read his eyes before nodding. "Imagine that, a hunter actually involved with a witch such as you. Doesn't that go against their handbook?"

"You seriously want to name call right now?" Morgan snorted, hoping that damn Angel in the trench coat got his ass in gear before it became too plain how hard keeping that shield up was becoming. "I got about fifty I could lay on you, slick, and that doesn't include the good half a dozen I'm about to call you if you don't back the hell off the Winchesters."

"Ohh, God," Dean groaned under his breath but not from the pain he was in but from the fact that his friend was mouthing off in ways that not even he'd attempt.

"She is quite a lot like you," Castiel spoke from where he'd just appeared next to the elder Winchester, quickly taking in the scene around them to Dean's injuries before starting to lay his hand on him only to have Dean stop him. "I'm supposed to get you out of here, Dean." he replied, guessing that he shouldn't have assumed that this part of Morgan's plan would go off smoothly.

Knowing that would have been Morgan's first order to Castiel, Dean shook his head firmly. "I'm not leaving here without them, Cas," he refused straight out, motioning to the Angel to help him up. "I need to get Sam out of here and are you the only backup?"

"Dean, let me get you away from here and then I'll help…" Castiel began when he caught sight of two of Zachariah's enforcers moving their way. "Stay here while I deal with them."

"Yeah, right," Dean rolled his eyes, attempting to move but felt white hot pain shoot up his leg until a softer feeling of warmth took its place and slowly he could almost feel the shattered bone mending. "Shit! Morgan, get Sam outta here!"

Splitting what power she was pulling in too many ways was making staying on her own feet dubious but she shot a quick 'yeah, right' look at Dean before giving Zachariah a dark look. "You, get the hell away from my friend," she moved a finger to take an honestly started pudgy Angel off his feet and a good two feet from Sam. "Cas! Grab Dean and Sam and get the bloody hell outta Dodge!" she snapped, eyes not leaving Lucifer's calm gaze even as she fought to ignore every curse she could feel from Dean.

"I should have let them kill you!" Zachariah snarled, jerking a hand in motion to one of his goons to attack. "You aren't supposed to interfere in this! This is none of your business!"

"You should've thought of that before you went after them, baldy," she tossed back, not giving the enforcer a chance to come close since she wasn't certain she could maintain control of the shield if she got into a physical confrontation.

Twisting her free hand, the lunging Angel in a cheap Blue's Brother's suit went down in a screaming light but that tiny slip in power also caused the shield to weaken. "Damn it, Cass! Get them out! I'll handle this!"

"I'm not leaving you here alone!" Dean snapped, seeing that Castiel had dealt with the first enforcer with ease but this one seemed to be giving him a harder time. "Focus on keeping Sam safe and I'll deal with the dynamic douchebags here."

"You know I could kill him," Lucifer sighed, no longer finding this amusing. He honestly liked Sam's brother since he admired Dean's devotion to his little brother but now, when he was so close to gaining his true vessel, he was willing to forget that. The girl, on the hand, was another matter to him. "You have both ability and a blade to kill Angels, impressive," he nodded before smiling. "You're also down to your last ounce of power. What do you really think you can do, Morgan?"

Hating to have her thoughts read by anyone, the British woman scowled. "I can keep you from getting your hands on my friend," she replied simply, cocking her head curiously. "I wouldn't cast stones about my power either since while you might be the King of Hell, your host there ain't lookin' so good."

"Heh, that's funny," he admitted, taking a step closer to her while moving a hand to block Dean from getting near them. "I'm honestly surprised Sam grew up as polite and well mannered as he is considering the effects you and his brother must have been on him."

"That was a case of 'do as we say and not as we do' when Sammy was a kid, slick," Morgan shrugged, refusing to show the fear that having him this close was now causing. "You can kill me, but I'll have them far away from here before I take my last breath," she warned, seeing that Castiel was busy and trying to gauge if she had the strength to make a teleport spell of such a distance.

Gazing down at the smaller woman over to Dean, Lucifer's gaze shifted between them for several seconds as if guessing the mental argument that was probably ensuing between them. "You know, it amazes me the self-sacrifice you mortals are willing to make for one another," he mused. "I thought that was only something Sam and his brother were good at but then…I see you're also very well versed in self sacrifice since you very nearly sacrificed yourself to save Sam from his father back…"

Temper flared as power surged in her eyes when Morgan's hand moved without thinking to shove the smirking fallen Angel back a good two steps. "Shut. The. Hell. Up." she gritted, refusing to allow this thing to bring that up or to even have him mention it near Sam or Dean. "What do you know about self-sacrifice you arrogant son of a bitch? You want to give me the usual pity rap that you're only crime and the reason you were banished is because you loved God too much? Cause that's bullcrap and you know it. You fell because like any jealous little brat you couldn't stand when Daddy started giving all his attention to something else!"

"Morgan," Dean whispered, feeling the edge in the barn grow darker even before a sharp crack seemed to envelope the run down barn as fury seemed to pass over Lucifer/Nick's normally calm face and the young hunter caught the look of real fear on Castiel who had just heard the exchange.

His hand moved in a blur to grip her throat only to jerk it back as it burned and she felt a small burst of relief that her power could still do that. "I don't know if you're stupid or insane for talking to me like that," he remarked tightly, still feeling his anger at a mortal saying such things to him.

"I'd vote for the second choice if she didn't sign my paychecks and I didn't want flash fried once she's back to full power now step back or I do more permanent harm to that vessel than you've already done to him," Jack MacShayne snapped from where he was leaning against the barn wall behind Dean. "Oh, and Zachariah? I owe you for touching my boss in the first damn place so burn," he growled, throwing a blue sphere toward the bald Angel who dodged it barely but before he could respond, the young mystic had moved from where he stood to next to Dean. "Get to your brother, her shield won't repel you and stay there," he warned harshly, praying he could do this.

"I thought you'd left," Dean replied sarcastically, blinking when he found himself moved from where he'd been to inside the now flickering shield next to his still unconscious brother. "I hate it when he does that," he muttered, catching Morgan's eyes to see the inner struggle and knowing she was going to crash soon if she didn't stop using the amount of energy she had been. "Hang on, Sammy. We're getting out of here real soon."

"Jack," Lucifer didn't seem too surprised to see the young mystic as he held up a hand to stop Zachariah from moving. "I didn't expect to see you here, considering your powers seem to be waning somewhat."

Sneering, the mystic strolled up to keep himself between the one relative he honestly never wanted to face and Morgan. "Yeah, well what can I say? I'm just a glutton for punishment," he shrugged, blue eyes sharpening as he took in the enforcers. "Zach, you'd do your best to take what's left of the goon squad and hit the road while I'm busy dealing with this one here."

"You don't have the current range to take everyone on, Jack," Zachariah was certain of this, eyeing the Winchesters with disdain. "I can still hand Michael his vessel on a silver platter once you're dealt with."

Grabbing for Morgan before she could attempt a spell or throw the knife at Zachariah, Jack tightened his grip on her arm almost painfully. "You have one shot at all of you walking out of this still breathing but you have got to keep your damn temper and move at the right time," he warned in a harsh whisper, whirling back to hold up a hand to stop Lucifer from stepping back toward the Winchesters. "Back off the mortals, Unc. You can't touch Sam Winchester's body without his verbal consent…his fully conscious, fully coherent verbal consent and thanks to Zach's overzealousness that might be the one thing that no one, not you, not his brother, will ever have or see again," he declared firmly.

"Sam's not brain dead, Jack, "Lucifer informed him, sure of this. "True, Zachariah did do more damage to Sam's mind than I like but even a mentally regressed Sam can give me consent and that's what I will…Jack…" he narrowed his eyes as the boy smirked when he sent a wave of energy into the ground between the table and Lucifer.

"When was the last time you read the by laws of taking a vessel, dude?" Jack wondered, snapping his fingers to make an ancient looking text tablet appear in his hand. "According to the rules, a true vessel, not one taken out of emergency or necessity, needs to be of the current century's legal voting age inboth mind and body. He or she also be fully in control of his right head at the time of consent or the agreement is null and void," smiling with more cockiness than he truly felt, Jack snapped his fingers to make the tome vanish again. "That being said, since Sam Winchester's mind is currently not in it's full twenty seven year state, you can't touch him and if you try, I will toss Zachariah's butt back to the Garrison so fast his bald head will spin."

Something about that last comment made Dean frown as he met Castiel's grim eyes but then he was forced to concentrate on his little brother when he felt Sam's pulse jump under his hand. He knew that Morgan had also felt the change as her eyes seemed to lose focus for just a moment but the scariest thing was Lucifer's sudden laughter.

"Jack, my God you do have Amelia's sense of humor," he finally managed between laughs, laying a ice cold hand on the young mystic's shoulder as he struggled to stop laughing. "Even at your full power range, you don't have the strength to take me on, much less keep me from claiming my vessel or killing your friend and Dean. You barely have the strength to singe me much less hurt me, boy," he told him but slowly sobered when he caught the amusement in his nephew's eyes. "What? You find it amusing that I could destroy you with a thought or…"

"No, the part where you missed me saying that I was going to knock Zach's fat ass back to the Garrison is funny," Jack grinned, keeping a hand on Morgan's arm as he went on. "I never said I was going to deal with you, Lucifer…in fact, I'm not stupid enough to think on my best day that I'd even stand a shot in…well, Hell against you," he admitted easily a second before his voice dropped dangerously low and his smile turned feral. "I don't have to. He will," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Took your own sweet time, didn't you…Ethan?"

"Not really. I've been here since before you decided to show up actually," Ethan MacShayne replied calmly, having more of some type of accent than his brother.

The eldest son to a fallen Angel and a semi-high ranking demon, his power and age showed in the way his sharp blue eyes shimmered as he entered the barn, dressed in black jeans, a crisp white shirt under a black leather jacket. His black hair was worn much shorter than his brother chose to wear his and light seemed to shimmer on the wedding band he wore.

"You were…" Jack began in outrage before choosing to settle that with him later, grabbing Morgan's arm to move even as Lucifer's hand was lifting. "Shit, this could be bad…"

A shift in power along with a gust of wind blew in, taking the King of Hell surprisingly off his feet. "Jack doesn't have the power to face you, Lucifer. I, on the other hand, do," Ethan shot back evenly, power surging from his hand to distract Lucifer who had to turn his attention to his elder nephew or face real damage to this vessel. "Jack, give Morgan to the mortal with the attitude and then send Zachariah packing. One pain in the ass Uncle is enough to handle today."

"You're still too bossy, Eth," Jack muttered in mock disgust but was quick to throw a massive energy sphere to take out six enforcers. "Stay with Dean, try to get the kid awake because teleporting is bad enough conscious. If he's hurt too bad, it could be dangerous to use the spell," he told her, lifting a brow at a sneaking Zachariah. "What, you think you're so tiny that you can sneak?" he scoffed, tossing a sphere into the air. "Dodge this, Zach."

"How many of those guys are there?" Dean was demanding of Castiel when he turned just in time to catch Morgan's arm before she lost balance. "You've just done more damage to those wounds by this stunt," he growled, more concerned than angry but only someone who knew him could have told that.

Leaning against the table to stop things from spinning, Morgan had to close her eyes to keep Dean from spinning before she could reply to that complaint. "Yeah, well you're walking on two legs and Lucifer ain't wearin' Sammy so those are good things in my book," she responded, finally able to see clearly and dropped her eyes to the pale, battered young man still laying so still. "How bad?"

Keeping his attention switched between his friend and his brother, Dean was gentle when he eased Sam to his side and both saw the unhealed wounds on his back and side but what concerned him was the amount of pooled blood under him. "_Sonuvabitch_," he whispered, swallowing his anger at what the bastards had done to his brother when he felt a soft touch on his arm. "He'll be fine," he spoke with more confidence than he felt. "All he needs is to get out of here and to wake up…then he'll be…fine."

Castiel kept silent as he could sense more of the younger Winchester's many unseen injuries and knew that Dean's hopes could very well be dashed when the sound of Zachariah roaring in pain made him look curiously to see that Jack MacShayne had pinned the arrogant Angel to a wall. He was about to make quick work of his head when he caught sight of something more important…an enforcer with blade raised at Dean's heart.

Using some words that he had learned from Dean, Castiel had started to move when he saw that Morgan, whose shield had faltered enough to let the blade pierce it, had also seen the threat and moved to push her friend clear even while summoning some form of energy to deflect the blade when it shifted to pierce her right shoulder.

"Morgan!" Dean shouted, grabbing her as she fell back just as Castiel pulled his own blade to sink it deep into the other Angel's back, killing him instantly.

The young woman's cry of pain seemed to affect both brothers as Dean was taken off guard by a surge of pain and Sam whimpered before instinctively trying to curl up.

"Jack!" Castiel shouted, placing a hand on Sam to keep him still once he saw that Dean was handling things on his end. "Deal with this and help Ethan with Lucifer! This needs to end!"

"I don't take orders from Angels, Cas!" Jack shouted back but took in the sight over his shoulder with a scowl, pressing his forearm harder against Zachariah's throat while pointing the tip of the Angel killing blade at his eye. "Listen to me carefully, you bloated Angelic blowhard," he growled, wincing when he heard his brother's sharp oath. "I've burned your goons. You are living to leave here in one piece because quite frankly I'm gonna be too busy putting back the pieces of the Winchester boys to deal with more of the Garrison or Mom's demented family so here's the rules. I better never see you near either the Winchesters or my friend again because the very next time you or anyone from the Garrison move on Dean, I will burn your fat ass and make sure you never take another vessel again. Now, get away from me!" he snarled, jerking a hand to vanish a swearing Angel before he turned to find his brother. "Eth! Need a hand?"

Wiping blood from his mouth, Ethan MacShayne's blue eyes went cobalt before he shot out a power surge that finally succeeded in making Lucifer ease off. "No!" he snapped back. "Deal with them!" he ordered, dropping to one knee to avoid the heavy piece of machinery that could have taken even his head off. "What, stooping to throwing things now? I thought that was more in the line of Raphael?"

Lucifer went to unleash another burst of power when he felt dizzy suddenly, grabbing onto to a pillar. "I will have what I came for," he gritted, refusing to be beaten by a mere child in comparison to his power.

"You can't claim Sam Winchester for the same reasons that my brother already named, Lucifer," Ethan remarked, sighing as he jerked off his now ruined jacket. "Besides that, your current vessel isn't going to last through this fight with me since you're already burning poor Nick out now. To take me out you'd have to unleash nearly all your power and that puny mortal you're wearing will die long before you even cause me serious harm," he warned, lifting a hand and was pleased to see his opponent step back. "I also could burn that body out with just a portion of my power unless you leave now."

Pride almost made him refused to be backed down by a boy half his own years until he caught sight of how much worse Nick was appearing in a pierce of shattered glass. "You can't prevent Sam's destiny, Ethan," he warned, looking to see that Jack had positioned himself in front of the Winchesters while Castiel had moved closer in case a hasty retreat was in order. "Sam is destined to be my vessel just like Dean is destined to be Michaels. They were born for these roles and nothing that you, Jack or that girl can do will stop that from happening…but…I would much rather take Sam when he's fully healed mentally…which I wish you both the best of luck in doing, Dean," he added before vanishing without another word.

"Y'know, I used to think my mother-in-law was the worst thing I had to deal with…until I remembered why I didn't like Mom's side," Ethan muttered, scowling but moving to check on the mortals. "Zach hurt the boy more than he let on," he whispered to his brother who merely nodded.

"I'm…fine, Dean," Morgan was saying while fighting to get up to check on Sam only to have Dean's arms easily keeping her still as Jack knelt down to check her shoulder. "It's just a little cut. I've had worse…shut up." 

Frowning down as he knelt next to the table with her leaned against his chest, he caught sight of the little trickle of blood but he also noticed that the wound was on the same shoulder that she'd had cut by his Dad. "What did Lucifer mean about you nearly sacrificing yourself for Sam?" he asked seriously, not liking the way she refused to meet his eyes or the way her fingers shifted over his uneasily. "Damn it, Morgan. What the hell happened that night?"

"People, can we skip the drama until I or Cas get you someplace else?" Jack questioned, shooing his brother away. "Go home now, Ethan. I have this," he stated, knowing that while Dean had reluctantly accepted him it probably wasn't a good idea to have Ethan around long term without inciting the elder Winchester brother to ask questions that no one was ready to answer.

"Be careful, Jack," he warned, stepping back after exchanging a terse nod with the only Angel remaining. "Neither Zachariah nor Lucifer is done with these two."

Dean gave up on keeping Morgan sitting down so he helped her up enough to sit on the edge of the table but kept an eye to be sure she wasn't doing anything that she shouldn't yet. He was well aware that she'd try a healing spell on Sam as soon as she thought neither he nor that mystic was looking. Remembering Jack, he shifted a narrowed look at him. "How old are you?" he asked suddenly, noticing the way Jack tensed. "You're not our age."

"Gold star for you, Winchester," he replied, positive that he was not getting into this right then. "Boss, don't even attempt to do a deeper scan on this kid unless you're stronger or I'm going to agree with Dean about his plan to lock you in Singer's panic room until you're stronger or you let one of us look at you."

As Morgan started to shoot him a dirty look and Dean was winding up to throw a snide comment about pulling foolish, risky stunts while hurt which he knew would distract her a sudden bright flash of light filled the barn and took a stunned Castiel away in such a way that had Dean automatically stepping in front of both his friend and brother even as Jack was swearing in some language.

"_Sonuvabitch_! I knew I should've just killed that bastard," he swore sourly, wishing he'd grabbed his Colt even as he could feel something pressing itself into his palm and knew without a doubt it was Morgan's 9mm pistol. "How'd the hell did he find out about that blood spell to disperse an Angel?"

"You think I know?" Jack snarled, snapping a shield up to protect the others while he took a step forward. "Didn't I tell you what I'd do to you if ever pointed that damn gun at me, Murray?"

Sheriff Shea Murray had worked hard once he regained consciousness to free himself, find a weapon and get to the Tolson place where he knew Milt was holding the Winchester boy. Now, he saw the bodies of most of the Tolson family, along with the suited men that worked for Zachariah all scattered amongst the debris.

"I just got rid of your Angel friend. Do you honestly think I can't handle you, MacShayne?" he asked, holding a shotgun steadily but he was aiming it past the mystic. "You should've killed me Winchester because after what you'd cost me, my town, I'll make damn sure to kill you."

"I told your son that I'd do my best not to kill you," Dean began grimly, holding the 9mm Browning firmly in his hand. "He's a good kid and sure as hell deserves better than you but I'm also not about to let you kill me and give you a free shot at your sister either. Now, put the shotgun down."

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Morgan was finding it hard to stay awake but knowing that she couldn't leave Sam unprotected while Dean and Jack dealt with her…with the Sheriff when something made her look up just in time to notice the red dot of a laser sight settling on Dean's neck from a broken window. "Dean!"

Morgan's shout had him moving to avoid the bullet to the neck but he wasn't fast enough to avoid the shot that struck his shoulder and knocked him to the floor, unmoving. "No!" torn between going to Dean and trying to shield Sam as best as she could, the young woman suddenly felt the room spin as shock and infection began to settle on her weakened system. "Jack…"

"That was stupid, Sheriff," the mystic sighed, taking a quick look to know that Dean's wound, while serious, wasn't life threatening and so maintained his position. "You realize that I could wave a hand and turn both you and that brother of yours with the sniper scope outside into dust, don't you?"

"So why haven't you, Jack?" Shea asked with a sneer, no longer caring who had to die to bury this mess. "Maybe you don't have the power anymore? Or maybe you don't care or…"

"Or I'm waiting for the seriously pissed off mercenary to do it for me?" Jack smirked even before the sound of a gun being cocked near the Sheriff's ear was heard. "Let me spell it out for you in terms even you can understand. You lured your sister here, you watched as she was tortured, you tried to shoot her, you did shoot a member of the Queen's Court Raiders and now between you and your brother, you just shot a guy who is number one in the charter to protect. Oh, and Kel's horrid with jetlag and mystical teleporting makes him worse so if he just doesn't pull that trigger, you'll be lucky. Ciao."

As Jack walked away, Shea Murray began to move when the gun jammed into his neck hard and he found himself looking into ice cold brown eyes. "You shot my medic, you son of a bitch. That alone will get you killed after I'm done beating the crap outta you!" Kelly Robinson growled, slamming the hilt of his .357 Magnum against his skull to snap at someone behind him. "Get him outside with the other one until I'm done in here!"

"Dean?" Morgan was holding Sam's limp hand mainly to have something to keep her grounded until she noticed the older Winchester finally move with a groan. "Dean!"

"Babe, have I ever told you that you echo after I've been shot?" he muttered, holding a hand to his bleeding shoulder while managing to get to his knees before Jack and Kelly got to him. "Oh, so now the cavalry shows up? Your timing sucks, Kel."

Feeling the warning in Jack's look, Kelly just shut up as he pulled the injured hunter to his feet. "Considering how you and the boss look, I'll keep my opinion of that to myself," he remarked, going to look at the wound until he was shrugged off.

"I'm fine, it's a graze," he assured her, figuring he could bluff that one off unless she noticed the blood seeping from under his fingers as he used his good hand to touched her cheek and was instantly on guard. "You're too cold."

"We need to get Sam out of here," she countered, forcing her eyes to focus on the shoulder he was holding when her gaze was drawn downward; to the hand she was holding. "Sammy?"

Ignoring the bickering merc, Jack's attention was also drawn to the injured younger Winchester when he noticed his fingers tightening slightly around Morgan's hand and he held his breath.

"Sam?" Dean let his hand drop from his shoulder to grasp his little brother's other wrist while making sure to keep his good hand on Morgan's back since he could feel the chills she had and knew that meant he'd soon be dealing with two sick people. "Sammy? C'mon, little brother, open those big puppy dog eyes so Morg will quit griping at me," he urged, nodding to Morgan to go ahead as she hesitated before lightly touching Sam's cheek. "Sam!"

"Your bedside manner still sucks, you know that?" she asked crossly, pain, nausea, chills and being worried making her temper short. "He's going to be scared. Yelling at him isn't going to help that."

Lifting his eyes, Dean's lips formed the small smirk he was known for and figuring as soon as she was feeling better she'd be smacking him in the head. "You know what I sound like when I yell, Angel," he reminded her sweetly. "Wait until we're alone at Bobby's. Then you'll hear me yell…at you…a lot."

"Yeah, that'll get you someplace real quick, hotshot," Morgan tossed back, neither aware of the pattern that they'd slipped back into until finally a whisper soft voice got through to them even before a loud but pointed cough did. "Sammy, you waking up for us now, luv?" she asked gently, seeing that Sam's eyes had opened a little but it was the blown pupils in wide, watery glassy hazel eyes that warned her something wasn't right. "Sam? Dean, something's wrong…"

Hearing the slightly panicked tone clued Dean in faster than when his brother's gaze looked between them for several moments before he moved with a speed that neither of them had counted on to twist on the table to throw his arms around Dean's waist and held on as tightly as he could right then. "De!" the effects of not using his voice for anything but screaming had made it hoarse so it cut off with his excited use of the nickname that he'd used for his older brother as a small child. "You…you're…better," he struggled to get the words out of a dry, tore up throat. "I…sorry…Dad…hurt you…don' hate…"

Shock had Dean unmoving for a couple seconds until he felt his brother trying to crawl closer even as Kelly was handing Morgan a silver-coated space blanket that his team used to treat hypothermia, then he quickly moved to ease Sam into a sitting position though getting him to release his hold on Dean's waist took a little work. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm…better," he got out past the lump in throat, pulling the blanket around to cover his brother as best as they could right then but as his eyes met Morgan's, both felt the concern quickly turning to panic. "Sam, what happened?" he asked warily, hoping beyond hope this was temporary.

Getting Sam to sit up fully took both Dean and Morgan as he was too weak from whatever he endured to sit up on his own so once he noticed Morgan on his other side, his attention left his brother in order to scoot closer to her as he had once before when scared over Dean's injuries. "You…got hurt," he mumbled, a habit that Dean had noticed his brother slipping back into even before this. "I…was…stooped and Dad got mad but Morgan said she'd make…you better and you're better so we…can…" he stopped when he noticed the barn. "Where…we at?" he asked, trying to curl against the young woman side when he began to shake. "I don' feel good, De."

"I…know you don't, Sammy," Dean replied, forcing his tone to stay quiet despite the rage that was screaming to get out. "Morg and me, we're going to take you home," he promised gently, glancing up at Morgan to see if she had an idea on how to handle this and he was just in time to see her own eyes roll back. "Shit!"

Moving quickly so he could catch her before she fall forward off the table where she'd been sitting, he supported her as best he could despite the agony that caused his shoulder. Dean lifted her face in his hand to feel her pulse was beating too fast, her skin felt clammy, and he caught the tears on her face, which he knew was for Sam. "Damn," he swore, feeling his brother trying to reach to help him but then went white as the gash on his arm probably began to hurt.

"What's wrong with Morgan, De'n?" he wanted to know, going to move forward when his brother managed to stop him by laying their friend in his arms. "She…sick cause of me…too?" his tired, swollen eyes seemed to water even more. "She…didn't eat…enough when you were sick," he whispered, as if telling a secret. "She said she did…but she was always with you…or me and…she's sick cause she…"

Grabbing Jack by the shirt, he yanked him closer. "Find Cas, NOW!" he snarled in a harsh whisper before forcing his voice to be gentle and calm when he reached to gently place both hands on Sam's neck to lift it to eye level. "No, Sam. Morgan got…hurt by someone and now…we have to take care of her," he replied, quickly grasping for anything to keep his brother calm while he figured out their next step. "I'm gonna need your help to take care of her, okay? You can do that, right, little brother?"

Forgetting his own confusion and fear for a moment, Sam's feverish face seemed to take on a look of immense childlike concentration before he nodded slowly. "Yah, De'n. I can help you take care of her," he promised, proud that his big brother would trust him with such an important job after what he'd caused. "She's…sleeping now," he murmured in a soft whispered, lifting one hand to run his own eyes. "Can I sleep now too, De'n?"

Refusing to let the damn burning tears he felt fall while he was looking at his little brother's trusting face, Dean slowly nodded while carding trembling fingers through Sam's matted hair. "Sure, Sammy," he smiled. "As soon as we get you both in the car, you can nap with Morg."

"Otay," Sam's gaze then went to his wrists which showed rope burns and he seemed to shake over that but only tensed when Dean went to take Morgan away from him. "No, De'n! I have her!"

Wanting to argue that Sam was too weak to carry Morgan, a sharp warning hiss from Jack changed his mind and he allowed his brother to stand shakily. Steadying him with a hand that he kept on Sam's shoulder as he got them the hell out of the damn barn that had been the site of so much pain and torment that he wasn't certain Sam would recover from this time.

Relieved that one of Kelly's people had thought to bring the Impala closer, Dean jerked open the back door before easing Morgan out of Sam's now shaking arms to place her in the back seat. Taking his leather jacket off with a little issue due to his shoulder, he laid it over her for the warmth he knew she needed before nodding to his little brother. "In you go too, Sammy," he urged, wanting to cry with how easy his brother responded to the same tone he had used on him as a kid.

Kneeling just inside the back door to make sure the blanket was still around Sam good enough and that both little brother and friend were as safe as he could make them right then, Dean laid a hand on Sam's now drooping head to ease it down against Morgan's good shoulder. "It's okay, Sammy," he murmured, moving his hand to then more gently stroke against the young woman's cheek. "I'll make this better…for both of you."

Shutting the door just as a hand touched his shoulder to relieve some of the pain, he hissed at the annoying mystic. "I'm fine," he snapped, looking back at the car. "You find Cas and tell him to give me an hour on the road then I want Angel Express to Bobby's," he declared firmly, knowing he couldn't drive all the way back to South Dakota with the injuries they all were suffering from and wanting his brother safe finally. "Then, after you deal with that jackass," his hard green eyes landed on the Sheriff. "I want one of you in South Dakota and don't make me send Cas after you!"

Not giving either mystic or mercenary a chance to argue, Dean got into the Impala but it was awhile before he started it as he seemed lost in thought while his gaze was locked on the rearview mirror. Finally starting the car that he knew his brother would sleep through, he took the road away from the barn at a much more sedate pace than he felt like as his mind burned with memories, pain and more questions than he had answers to…yet. Because he was afraid to find his brother this time he was going to finally get the answers to questions he's had for fifteen years. "I just don't know if I want them anymore."

Once the Impala was out of sight, Jack sighed with a weariness that he hadn't felt in a good three centuries. "That kid's going to explode," he muttered, knowing that was a fact and wondering if he could keep them safe long enough to find a way around this Apocalypse crap without either of the Winchesters becoming a flesh suit for one Uncle or another. "You gonna deal with Murray or can I turn him into a dragon?"

"No, I'll deal with the son of a bitch," Kelly replied grimly, eyes still following the trail of dust while reaching for his cell. "So, you want to find Castiel or…call an irate Hunter who will, more than likely, unload both barrels of buckshot at us when we show up on his door over this?" he asked but found that Jack was long gone. "Figures," he muttered, hearing the grumpier than usual voice of Bobby Singer come on. "So, you want the good news, the bad news or the really going to make you want to kill me on sight news?"

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Things seem to getting worse for Sam, don't they? Can Dean get his brother's mind to come back or has recent events traumatized it so much that it and the Sam of today are gone forever? What else will Dean learn of that summer? Can Dean and Morgan help Sam or will the secrets of that time still tear them all apart? Can Dean also forget the events in Carthage that his brother blamed himself for? Look for answers, drama, angst, ticked off Bobby, Teen!Chesters and more in Chapter 8. Thanks for reading and the continued support._


	8. Chapter 8

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Eight**

**Singer Salvage, Sioux Falls, SD:**

"_Goddamn, stupid, stubborn, mule headed idjits!" _Bobby Singer growled in a low deep voice since he was struggling not to shout in his own home but didn't want to disturb the two people that were still asleep while he wished the other fool would go to sleep. "All three of you…well, no, I won't lump your brother into this."

"Gee thanks, Booby," Dean muttered, still working his sore shoulder cautiously since he knew if he popped a single stitch the older man would probably slap him upside the head with something. "How about you tell me how you really feel?"

Slapping a book closed on his desk, Bobby spun the wheelchair around his desk in a tight turn that had even Castiel reaching in case it tipped over. "Your brother looks like hell and I hate to see the wounds he's got that we can't see. You won't let me near Morgan but when you decide to put a fist through my wall I can guess she's not much better and you…you had a damn bullet hole in your shoulder that shoulda bled out," he shook his head. "I thought it was a simple witch's curse? How'd the hell all this happen, Dean?" he demanded sourly.

Fingering the untouched shot glass of whiskey, Dean considered that as he wondered the same thing. He had basically come to accept that the whole witch thing had been a ruse to just lure him and Sam into the mix…which was something else he'd have to deal with since he knew that if his brother was bad with guilt then he'd come by it through osmosis. Morgan would be blaming herself for getting them involved and that was just something else for Dean to add to his growing list of things to handle.

After leaving Birkstown, West Virginia behind and none too soon in his opinion, Dean figured he'd only driven perhaps ninety minutes before Castiel appeared in the front seat of the Impala and without a word the next thing Dean knew was that the car was sitting in front of Bobby's house.

Growling about giving a guy warning to settle his stomach first, he was quickly out of the car and opening the back door to be sure that sudden impromptu method of traveling hadn't affected either Sam or their friend but both remained, thankfully, unconscious.

It took a snarling order from a very grumpy and alarmed Bobby to get Dean to allow Castiel to handle getting Sam inside the house but the young hunter accepted that even asleep, Morgan's weakened powers might react to any Angel. Not wanting Castiel friend, he took the job of carrying the young British woman into Bobby's house.

Bobby had taken one look at the trio, swore to beat the crap out of someone later until he got a good answer and started snapping orders.

Torn being between caring for his brother, whose worst wound physically that he had seen was the gash on his arm and what appeared to be a deeply infected bite on his thigh, and checking on the wounds he knew Morgan had increased, Dean had appeared lost for a moment until again his friend spoke.

"You can take care of Sam and let me look at her or…" Bobby hadn't gotten the rest of the sentence out before Dean was heading upstairs, figuring that Cas could help Bobby look at Sam from where they'd laid him on the sofa seat in the library. "Yep, sorta guessed that'd be his answer."

Dean had forgotten what it was like to take care of someone other than his brother but at the first sign of agitation in his friend, he remembered that even asleep she could be dangerous when he was quick to grab a fist that had gone for his throat. It took him well over an hour to check Morgan's injuries…most of which he swore to kill that medic for not treating good enough. After he'd cleaned and dressed injuries that he hoped never to have to deal with again in his life, he'd slipped her under the covers of the bed he normally used when staying over at Bobby's before going downstairs to check on his brother.

He'd made it about halfway down the hall before the rage took over as memories of the damn burned in mark on the small of her back kept replaying itself and he could hear the small whimpers she'd made in her uneasy sleep as he cleaned it. He didn't remember slamming his fist into the wall…until Bobby had shouted up the steps that any damage he did he had to pay for.

"Dean!" Bobby snapped, waving a hand in front of his face to bring the elder Winchester brother back into the conversation. "Didja hear anything that I just said to you?" he demanded sourly, figuring the boy hadn't since he'd looked a million miles away.

"Ask the mystic or the merc when one of them show up what the hell went wrong," Dean muttered, bone wearily tired but knew he still had a ways to go before he'd allow himself to sleep when his exhausted green eyes lifted to the ceiling as if searching for something only he could see or feel. "I need to be up there with them," he pushed to his feet and seemed oblivious to when Castiel's hand steadied him for a moment. "Sam'll be scared if he wakes up and I'm not there and…well, let's just say that depending on what I find out later, Morgan probably won't be too thrilled to be waking up here."

That made Bobby consider something and he went back to putting away the first aid kit he'd opened when looking Sam over. "Still hasn't told you anything, has she?" but he could tell by the way the boy stopped just inside the library door that he had been told something of that summer.

"You mean besides that you knew she went after Dad when Pastor Jim called her?" Dean replied in a voice that warned the older hunter that this was dangerous ground. A fact he knew was true when the boy looked over his shoulder at him, weariness, pain, and loss obvious in his eyes. "Did you know that Sammy wrote to her from a couple months after she left to probably a few weeks before I showed back up in his life?" he asked, the trace of bitterness plain. "She wrote to my brother but not to me…even though she said she did…but I…I just don't get why Sam wouldn't have told me that Morgan wrote to him or…"

"You jump that girl about the letters?" Bobby demanded, taking his hat off to ran a restless hand through what hair he had left after a lifetime of watching these boys grow up.

"Uhh, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes, waving his good hand restlessly. "I was kind of pissed to find out that my little brother had been writing to her, even after he left for school, and she wrote back to him but not a word to…"

The medical kit flying into a wall startled Dean enough to make him fall silent while Castiel merely remained silent from his vantage point in the corner. "Goddamn it, boy! You are so much like your Daddy at times that I could slap you in the head!" Bobby growled. "Yeah, she wrote back to Sam…but he never saw a single letter in return."

"Why would he keep writing if he never saw a letter back and why didn't he?" Dean was now so confused his head was hurting. "She didn't quite say that she wrote back but I assumed she had or he wouldn't have kept writing and I can see why she wouldn't write to me…"

"Damn it, Dean! She did write to you!" the older man snapped, throwing two thick packets at him. "She wrote to both you boys but…"

Catching the packets with one hand, Dean ruffled through the thickest bundle to see that they were all addressed to…him care of Robert Singer and it was like a kick to the gut as he began to gauge the dates. "The first one's dated less than a week after she'd left," he murmured, recalling how raw he'd been for months after the girl had run from him without a word.

Continuing to glance at dates, Dean noticed there was always a letter close to his birthday or close to the time when his Mom was killed. He noticed the letters seemed to increase in frequency after Sam had left for college. Looking more closely now, he began to see a pattern in the later letters. There was one shortly after the fire at Stanford, the writing on the envelope that had been sent after the incident with that Rawhead and he'd nearly electrocuted himself seemed smudged as…as if liquid, like tears, had dropped on the words only to be wiped away. There was a thicker letter sent around the time of his Father's death after he'd given his save to save Dean's own , another around the time of Sam's death at Cold Oak and so on, but it was the date on the last letter that made him falter. "The last few letters she sent to me, one was sent a week before my deal came due and the last…she wrote it to come the day of."

"_Sonuvabitch_," looking rapidly at the dates of the letters addressed to his brother, Dean saw a similar pattern emerging as a letter seemed to arrive around an important time in Sam's life, including his later teenage years, the fights with John, the night he'd left, the fire where Jessica had been killed. One was dated shortly after the whole Scarecrow mess where he and Sam had fought and split up for a brief time…when he'd met Meg, again around the time of the accident and John's deal, to the whole mess with the Yellow Eyed Demon, Sam's death and the opening of the Devil's Gate. Skipping ahead, Dean looked but already knew what he'd find even before he saw the date of the letters increased to Sam around the year that Dean had left before going to Hell. "Her last letter to Sam is dated four days after my return from the Pit," he slowly let his eyes raise to lock on Bobby', anger and hurt showing in his eyes as he fought to not take a step back into the room. "You've had these all along," Dean whispered, realization dawning on him. "You've known that she was writing to us and you never told us! You never told _ME_!"

"Dean…" the older man began but shut up when the boy stormed out without another word and Bobby slumped back in the chair with a disgusted sigh. "That went well," he muttered.

"I'm guessing that hiding things from Dean wouldn't be a well received thing to him," Castiel decided, having watched the scene unfold curiously. "Those letter clearly mean something to him, why would you hide them from him and Sam?"

Reaching over to take the untouched glass of whiskey that Dean had ignored, which worried Bobby a lot if he were honest, and downing it with a kiss, he eyed the Angel balefully. "If you think those two idjits are stubborn, their Daddy was a hundred times worse," Bobby scowled as he remembered. "I kept those letters because I knew that if John ever found out Morgan was writing to his boys he'd be livid and would probably do something stupid which would upset Dean," he poured another drink. "I kept 'em from the boys because I also knew the lies John told Dean. Back then, that boy was so raw with his hurt that he'd never listen to her and Sam…poor kid didn't deserve anything that went t down that night and the only reason I didn't kill John Winchester that night was because of the boys and Morgan didn't want Dean finding out the truth. Now, I don't know what she'll tell him or how he'll react but I doubt if this house'll see any peace once those two get into that," he sighed, noticing the Angel's gaze had sharpened. "Mystic or hotshot merc?"

"Both," Castiel replied, feeling the power signature of his nephew. "Jack's just arrived and his friend's will be arriving shortly. I take it you plan to have words with them over this?"

"Words, sure," Bobby agreed, pulling the sawed-off shotgun he kept attached to his wheelchair for just such occasions. "After I give him both here a good piece of my mind with a little buckshot," he growled, heading for the front door. "The last damn mystical brat that stepped foot on my land nearly had his own head blasted off, what makes you think you'll fare any better?"

**Upstairs:**

Forcing his bitterness and anger aside, Dean paused just inside the door to the bedroom that he and Sam had always shared and his hard gaze seemed to soften as he took in the beds.

Sam had slept through being brought into the house, being examined by Bobby and the awkward trip up the steps since Dean refused to allow Castiel to use his usual means of transportation on his brother.

Now, Dean noticed that Sam had turned on his side and was clutching the ragged blanket that Dean had dug clear into the bottom of his brother's duffel to find since he knew that was where he'd kept it since Morgan had left it back in Oregon. It was much to small now to cover his giant little brother's 6'4" frame so Sam had taken to clinging to it as he had that summer after a bad dream.

That summer Dean couldn't recall his brother going anywhere without that blanket and it wasn't until a few months ago that he learned why, after the night Morgan had left them, that he hadn't seen it until Oregon. Sam had slipped it into the girl's bag when she left so she, in his words, wouldn't forget them. As Dean was slowly coming to understand, Morgan hadn't forgotten them but it probably looked to her like the other way around.

"Sshh, Sammy," he soothed his brother when he noticed the tension on Sam's face as he slept and lightly carded his fingers through his brother's now reasonably clean hair until he seemed to relax again and not for the first time did Dean consider how innocent Sam looked when he slept. Like this, he was still the little brother that needed Dean to protect him from the monsters in the closet. Like this, he wasn't the brother that Dean had let fall to pieces by leaving him alone when he went to Hell. He wasn't the brother that Dean had abandoned with that demon skank. Like this, he was just Sammy and it surprised him how badly it hurt to think of the damn pain his little brother had gone through that might have been prevented if Dean had just swallowed his damn pride and picked up a phone anytime during that year he had left before the deal came do.

A sudden whimper made him look down to see his brother's hand reaching out and if Dean hadn't been sitting on the edge of his bed, Sam would have rolled straight out onto the floor. This was another reminder to Dean just how far Sam's mind had gone back since as a child his brother had been a restless sleeper when sick or frightened.

"Whoa there, Tiger," he started to ease Sam back away from the edge when he felt the slightest pulse of gentle energy and his brother murmured testily in his sleep but flipped onto this stomach while keeping the blanket tight to his chest and it didn't take Dean but a second to know what had happened. "Even asleep you still protect him, don't you?" he spoke softly while moving to sit on the edge of his own bed to gaze down at Morgan.

Still pale, her face showed the bruises of those days of captivity but the worse injuries he knew aside from the ones on her back were mental since as he learned once, Morgan could maintain a great façade until the shell broke. Between knowing that she'd been used to get them involved, to how badly Sam had been hurt to also knowing that Dean wanted answers, he knew she was burying the pain and thought how that would probably play out.

Brushing his knuckles down the side of her cheek, Dean was relieved to feel it warm but not dangerously hot as it once had been. Reaching over to the nightstand between the beds, he ran his mother's necklace through his fingers and thought back fifteen years.

"What the hell aren't you or Bobby telling me, Morg?" he asked the room in general, leaning down to brush a soft kiss over her lips before sliding to sit on the floor between the beds so he'd be close to both of them. Reaching for the bundle of letters addressed to him, spreading them out on the floor to wonder if he wanted to read them, if it would make a difference now to know what they letters said. "Yeah, I just probably won't like it."

Letting his head rest back against his bed while stretching his legs out as best he could in the cramped space, Dean allowed his eyes to fall close while his memories went back to another time. A time that he had tried to forget for the past fifteen years, a time when his little brother was actually happy and could laugh freely without fear or doubt. A time when Sam could be a normal twelve year old boy seeking to be really annoying when he wanted to be…

**Flashback, Sierra Mountains, Nevada, 1995:**

It was the stillness in the air that first woke him up and it was that difference that told sixteen-year-old Dean Winchester that he wasn't in Jim Murphy's house any longer.

Familiar instincts of protectiveness began to kick in since if he didn't know where he was then that also meant he didn't know where his brother was and he'd be damned if he'd lose Sam again…or let him be hurt.

Sure that he would've known if his Dad had come back for them, Dean's eyes pried themselves open finally to see that he was in, what had to be, the largest bedroom that he'd ever seen in his life. Looking around blearily but still with a hunter's eye, he noticed the fire burning in the large stone fireplace that kept the room heated along with the mountain of blankets that already covered him.

Groaning, Dean pushed up to an elbow to shove the blankets away to see that he was dressed only in his sleep pants. He figured a shirt was out due to the amount of…frowning when he glanced down he was mildly surprised to find that the mass of welts and bruises that he knew he should have didn't seem to be that bad or had vanished completely.

"What…the hell?" voice raspy from…hell, even he wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd finally passed out at Pastor Jim's place. He had brief flashes of hearing voices, of hearing his scared little brother and also another, much softer, voice more recently but his memories just weren't coming together.

Looking around, he spotted his duffel at the foot of the bed but a quick look told him it was empty which made him even more concerned as his tired, still swollen eyes, took in a not so comfortable looking chair situated by the massive queen sized bed. Trying to decide if the place looked familiar, Dean's panic level was notching upward when he heard the bedroom door open.

Expecting to hear his Father's stern and furious voice, Dean whirled and tried to stand all at the same time and came close to passing out again as he fell back onto the bed while pain seared through his body to remind him just how hurt he was.

"If it's clothes you'll be lookin' for, young Master Dean, they're in the dresser over there," a brisk, matronly voice spoke with a heavy Irish brogue as the short and portly body that went with it bustled into the room with clean linens and began to build up the fire. "And if you're looking for any of the mass of an arsenal that you and the young Miss like to carry on your person then don't because you won't be havin' any need for those things here. Plus, such weapons shouldn't be around a lad of Master Samuel's age…which I'm still having a devil of a time explaining to the Miss," she went on easily, moving to the dresser to remove clean jeans, a heavy shirt, and a sweater that she proceeded to hand to him while sitting a new pair of boots beside him. "Tis more than cold out there today so you'll be wantin' to bundle up while I go about seeing to dinner and getting your brother inside before he catches his death."

Blinking at the rapid fast conversation, Dean's hazy mind picked up a few lines but only locked onto one. "Sam's outside?" he repeated, relief that his brother seemed to be safe quickly turned to suspicion. "Where are we?" he demanded, forcing his voice to try to be stronger even as a glass of water was forced into his shaking hand. "Where's my brother, who're you, where's Pastor Jim and…"

"Blessed Saints, lad, but you are full of as many questions as that little one was," she chuckled with her hand on the door. "I'm Molly and I take care of the cabin for Master Kelly's family when they come here. Now, I've been helping the lass take care of you and let me tell you what a rip roaring bad patient you can be, bucko," she chided, rolling her eyes as she swept out of the room. "You take your time getting dressed and…Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Agnus McCellen, get your fat ass in gear old man and get that lad off that pile of snow before he falls off and breaks a bone!" she snapped angrily before lapsing into a language Dean couldn't handle.

"Ooookay," he breathed, managing to get into the jeans without passing out and while he was breathing harder after pulling the T-shirt over his head, he did get the over-shirt buttoned without too much hassle but decided against even attempting the heavy wool sweater.

Not happy that he didn't have any type of weapon on hand and he didn't know where the hell he and Sam were, Dean decided to play along until he got a better idea of the situation and then, if he needed to, act.

Stepping out of the bedroom, he saw a long hall with several other doors that led eventually to what would be considered the Great Room and he could certainly see why. The main room of what he now knew was a huge log cabin was massive with a vaulted ceiling that must have topped out at nine or so feet with polished wood beams, long glass windows occupied two sides while another was mainly occupied by a large natural stone fireplace with some type of animal mounted above it.

"Yeah, definitely not Jim's," he muttered with a low whistle that made his face hurt as he wandered closer to the side door that led outside to an all white exterior. Blinking at the massive amount of snow that he was seeing, Dean's hand opened the door and nearly gasped as his sore chest took in the first gust of freezing cold air when he heard a voice that made him think he was still hallucinating.

"Dev! Get down here and zap that pesky kid back in front of me before he freezes his butt off or Molly kills me!"

"You lose the kid, boss?" a younger man's voice asked from somewhere that Dean couldn't place when he heard the indignant snort that he knew he'd never forget as long as he lived.

"No, I did not lose him," she retorted smartly. "He's hiding. His drop dead gorgeous but huge pain in my ass big brother has been teaching Sammy tricks that I wasn't expecting and…"

Swearing in several languages, Morgan Harrison tore around the side of the cabin as best she could in snow nearly past her knees when she came to a stumbling halt at the sight of him leaning in the door. "Dean," she whispered, breath coming out as fog as their eyes locked and his smirk was unmistakable.

"You lose my little brother, Morgan?" he inquired, determined not to show how seeing her right now was affecting him.

Just in the process of repeating how she had not lost Sam, a tiny giggle from under a well-formed, a too well-formed, snow pile warned her of what she was certain was the boy's brilliant plan of getting even with her for hiding the cookies from him this morning. Sliding her eyes to see that Dean's gaze had followed hers with a frown, she arched a brow slightly.

"I'll give you a fifteen second head start to get back inside, find the biggest towel or heavy blanket that Molly has, and brace yourself before our cute, adorable little abominable Sammy latches onto you and doesn't let go," she offered easily, seeing him hesitate a second. Morgan knew the choice he'd make even before he took a step farther out the door. "Don't say I didn't warn you, slick."

Holding her amused eyes, Dean also caught something else in them. Worry and exhaustion but then he chose to concentrate on the giggling mound of snow. "Sammy! You becoming a penguin or a polar bear under all that snow or what?" he asked in as strong a voice as he could manage right then.

Preparing for his snowball assault, Sam hadn't been expecting the deeper voice of…"Dean!" he popped up out of his snowy cover and managed to get through the high piles of snow to throw himself against his brother with pure joy. "You're awake!" he chanted, relief clear as he wrapped his arms around Dean's waist tightly. "Morgan said you would be soon but it's been so long and you were so hot for awhile and screaming that…"

"Sammy," Morgan laid a gentle hand on the back of his neck to try to halt his flow of words but knew it was too late when a pair of green eyes snapped up to hers with both confusion and question clear. "Let's get you inside and changed into dry clothes before dinner…and now Dean'll need dry clothes too."

Large hazel eyes looked up to watch his brother but Sam didn't immediately let go. He seemed to be considering something but was almost afraid to ask it when Morgan gently eased his arms free to whisper something in his ear that had him nodding.

Sam, as Dean knew well, was small even for his age though he was starting to grow now but despite only being two years younger than Morgan, he was smaller than the she was. However, it still shocked and worried Dean when his normally independent little brother let her pick him up for the short trip inside the cabin.

"Well, tis a good thing I've prepared hot towels and hot cocoa considering how you both look," Molly huffed good naturedly as she took in the sight while coming over to easily heft a sleepy looking Sam out of Morgan's arms to head for the kitchen. "You'll be changing out of those wet clothes, Miss," she called briskly, eyeing Dean critically. "Change the top shirt, lad and put the sweater on while I take care of this one."

"Who or what is she?" Dean asked very softly, not wanting to get on the woman's bad side but noticed that Morgan wasn't looking at him as she headed down the hall to a room right next to his. "Alright, next question is, what the hell happened, where the hell are we, where's Dad, and how long have I been out?" he demanded all in one breath as he followed her into a bedroom that he took was hers but also noticed it wasn't nearly as large as the one he woke up in.

Having spent the day concentrating on distracting Sam, Morgan hadn't allowed herself the strength to deal with Dean just yet. She knew he'd have questions, she knew he'd still be hurt despite her best efforts to heal what she could, but she hadn't been expecting the way her heart had slammed into her ribs at the sight of him leaning in that door or the way his arms had automatically gathered Sam close to him.

Needing five minutes to recharge her emotional walls, she was wishing he'd go check on Sam or go change instead of sitting down on her bed with a frown at the way it shifted. She had no intention of telling him that since they'd arrived over a week and a half ago, she'd spent most of her nights in the chair in his room.

"She's the housekeeper and she carries a bloody mean wooden spoon so avoid mouthing off," she finally replied from the tiny bathroom, knowing she'd hear if he moved off the bed. "If you don't remember what happened, all the better for you, we're in the Nevada mountains above Taho. Your…Father is…off with Bobby Singer and a bald young guy with an attitude almost as bad as yours…or so Jim said and…it's not important," she finished, hoping that would satisfy him since she didn't want him asking anything that would upset Sam again.

Stepping from the bathroom, Morgan couldn't help the tiny squeak of surprise when she ran right into Dean who had taken up position outside the door. The arm that he could move without too much pain slipping around her waist to ease her closer but not liking the way his friend tensed or the brief look of worry in blue eyes that, now that he was closer, he could see were red rimmed and had deep shadows underneath.

"I remember everything up to passing out at Pastor Jim's place, smart aleck," he began, determined that the pain he still felt was not putting him back in bed until he got answers. "Dad would never agree to let us leave Pastor Jim's house…unless Bobby was aiming a shotgun at his head or something," Dean knew this to be a fact, especially with how furious his Father had been with him and that made him wonder something else. "How much have you taken?"

Knowing what he meant, Morgan had no intention of answering that question, so she went back to a slightly safer one. "You can call Jim and asked him what happened," she shrugged, refusing to show the mild wince that wanted to come. "He and your Dad…agreed that it would be better for you and Sam to stay out for the summer. You're supposed to go to Bobby's place when you feel like it though Jim suggested maybe not until it's closer to time to start school again but it's up to you."

Keeping his arm around Morgan, Dean thought he felt her jerk when his palm brushed over her side but before he could comment on that something else nagged at him. "Dad agreed that we could stay away all summer?" he could read the lie in that and wondered what Jim or Bobby had to say or threaten to get John to agree to that plan. "How'd you get mixed up in this?" he asked, deciding to change directions even as he could heard his little brother laughing.

"Just…dropped by Jim's on a whim," she hedged, feeling him shift so that he had her backed against the wall next to the bathroom door and knowing he wasn't buying it. "Dean…you need to be resting. You're still…"

With a low snort, Dean decided to see how far you could push them both. "You do know that I can tell when you're lying to me, right, Angel?" he asked quietly. "You get real evasive and won't look at me," he waited a second for her to make herself meet his gaze before smirking. "Also, you remember that little scratch you healed on Sam's birthday, did you know that by using those powers that I'd be able to feel you more?"

Gritting her teeth, Morgan wanted to bang her head in because she hadn't counted on the link being two-ways. "No, I didn't," she admitted tightly, moving to shove against his chest lightly to avoid hurting him. "You wanna back off, Winchester?"

"No, but you could make me," Dean invited, knowing she wouldn't when they both, as if on instinct, turned to see Sam coming in the door munching on what appeared to be a candied apple. "Hey, that your dinner?" he asked but still didn't move.

"No," Sam grinned around the fruit as he took in his brother and friend curiously for a moment before nodding back to the main part of the cabin. "Molly says to get you for dinner before it gets cold and we get double chocolate cake for dessert if Dean keeps his dinner down she says," he enthused.

That alone made Dean move so Morgan could get free to snag his little brother by the back of the dark blue heavy hoodie he now was wearing. "Whoa, you aren't having chocolate this close to bedtime, Sammy," she replied, seeing the lower lip jut out a second before he slipped on the full puppy dog innocent look. "Uh-huh, you got your little hands on that candied apple when you shouldn't have so it's dinner, bath, and bed."

"Deeaaannn," the whine only came when he wanted to play on his brother's sympathy but one look at the knowing smirk Dean had told the younger Winchester that his normal battle plan wasn't going to work this time. "One tiny slice?"

Rolling her eyes about the stubbornness of Winchesters, Morgan was about to reply when she felt a gentle pressure lightly touching her back to realize what Dean was doing as he stepped up behind her to eye his wide eyed innocent looking little brother while he moved his fingers against her back.

"Sammy, I might still have a concussion or something but do I look brain damaged to you?" he scoffed, jerking his chin out of the room. "Scoot and we'll be there in a sec."

Hazel eyes seemed to go back and forth between them for a second before he grinned but took off running with more energy than he should have had for being outside all day.

"He's going to be fun to get down tonight," Morgan groaned, seeing this wasn't going to be an easy night on top of everything else. "Thanks for not letting him have the cake though," she glanced over her shoulder to catch his smile.

"Babe, I've grown up with that kid so I know what he's like hyped on sugar," Dean laughed, feeling at ease for the first time since his brother had given him the slip…he still wasn't sure how long ago that was but not feeling like bringing it up again. He'd wait until Sam was out for the night. "C'mon, let's go see what's for supper."

Morgan worried that with just waking up her friend wouldn't have much appetite and while she did notice a slight decrease in the way Dean ate she was pleased to see that he handled the light dinner of homemade vegetable soup with hot roast beef sandwiches, several different types of roasted vegetables and a salad without too much difficulty.

Clearly still in pain and sore as he shifted restlessly in the high back dining room chair, Dean had to admit that he was impressed with what he ate but then since he couldn't recall the last time he'd had solid food he shrugged that off to pay more attention to his brother.

Sam wouldn't meet his eyes fully all the time and when the conversation lagged, so did Sam's fork as if when he wasn't concentrating on something else his thoughts went back to his brother's injuries and their cause.

Dean had watched all during the meal that Morgan, who had managed to get Sam to sit between them, was making sure the boy ate more greens and vegetables, which he knew he should saint her for since his brother hated to eat green stuff on a normal basis.

Once the meal was over and the overly chatty housekeeper was about to serve dessert, Morgan decided to was time for Sam to have a bath and get ready for bed which incited a tiny revolt.

"Dean's going to get dessert, isn't he?" Sam pouted, not yet willing to try his luck at a full fledged protest because he still knew the trouble they were in. "That's so not fair, Morgan."

Grinning at him while seeing Dean's eyes going between his brother and the cake as if trying to choose, she nudged Sam toward the master bathroom. "Dean's hurt so that means he gets coddled and can have the stuff we can't," she replied easily before throwing in her last jab. "Besides, after he eats that cake, Molly'll be making him go to bed while you get to stay up for another chapter of your book."

As Sam laughed and ran ahead of her, Morgan heard Dean nearly choke on the cake before he swallowed. "Hey!" he called after her once Molly was done making certain he wasn't choking for real. "Does that mean you'll coddle me after Sammy goes to sleep?" he asked with his best smile, lifting a suggestive eyebrow that usually made his friend laugh. Now he noticed that her smile tightened slightly before relaxing.

"Sure, when you can stay awake longer," she responded before going to check on Sam and leaving the older boy to wander just what she was keeping from him that made her so distant.

Dean, after eating two pieces of cake, had gone back to the room he'd woken up in to call Pastor Jim who had sounded relieved to hear from him but had avoided any discussion of his Father except to say that John was hunting with Caleb for awhile and not to call him. That told Dean right off that his father hadn't agreed too readily to this summer vacation plan. While normally, he would've called John to see what was happening or to check to see if he even gave a damn that he was still breathing, he remembered his brother's smile and how easily Sam laughed. Those two things made him choose not to and just wait and see how things went.

Stretched out on the bed, Dean had laid still to take stock of his injuries. He knew every damn bruise, welt, punch and kick he'd received that day and after a good look at a calendar in the cabin's kitchen he figured out how long it had been since he'd been hurt. Considering things, he figured most of his injuries should have still been massively swollen, black, blue, and purple with healing ribs and a back that he knew he didn't want to imagine what it had been like.

A long shower before stretching out had allowed him to see for himself that most of them had vanished completely and others, which he knew had been the worst, had been reduced to only mildly painful now. Dean knew he didn't heal that quickly so that left only one other way that he'd healed and since he knew she wouldn't have casted a circle and a healing spell that left only one other way for his injuries to have been reduced and it also explained why Morgan was so wary about letting him close.

"He finally asleep?" he asked after hearing her close the door to Sam's room which, after a quick look in on them, had told Dean that she had given them the better rooms.

A quick silence made him smile because he knew Morgan was debating on answering before he caught sight of her silhouette in his door and he waited.

"Two stories and a before bed apple before he went out," she replied, the British accent sounding far more strained than he liked as she finally stepped into this room. "Why're you still awake?"

"Waiting to see if you were planning on tucking me in like you did for Sam or are we playing favorites, Morg?" Dean teased, not covering his painful curse when he pushed up on an elbow but kept his mouth shut since it did get the girl to come closer to him.

Even as sixteen, with raging hormones for any other female he'd ever met, Dean knew that Morgan was different since he was more careful in the way he flirted and teased her. Sure, one reason was the two year age difference but there was something else that he couldn't place yet that made him want to be more careful.

"You've gotten plenty of attention from me, slick," she retorted, absently checking for a fever before he caught her hand and began to let his fingers move up her wrist. "Dean…"

"Why're you…" he began to ask when a step made him look over and frown. "Sammy."

As Morgan turned to look, Sam yawned but stuck his head into the room. "I thought I heard…something," he hedged, voice just a little too shaky for either teenager to be at ease. "Morgan usually…"

"I'll check, Sam," Morgan quickly moved towards the door while shooing Sam out. "You stay put and I'll be back to check that wound on your back," she called back.

Tucking the younger boy back in, Morgan flipped the lowest switch on a light in the corner as she had been doing when Sam would stay in this room and she started to wonder if that's what the problem tonight was. "What'd ya hear, luv?"

"Dad," Sam whispered, restlessly twisting his new green blanket around his hand as his eyes roamed the room uneasily. "I heard Dad yelling at Dean and…at you."

Sighing, Morgan smoothed a hand through his hair in an effort to calm him down. "Sam, your Dad isn't here and won't be here," she assured him, hoping that was true since Jim had clearly said how furious the senior Winchester had been. "By the time we get to Bobby's place, John will have forgotten all about what happened. Now go to sleep and maybe tomorrow if Dean feels like it we can build that snowman you've been wanting to."

Waiting until she was sure the boy had drifted off again to go back to check on his brother, Morgan was slightly surprised to find that Dean was not only still awake but sitting up fully. "He's fine. He still…he blames himself for you being hurt and he's afraid John will come."

"It's not his fault what happened between me and Dad since this ain't the first time I've taken a punch to keep Sam…" Dean stopped the second he noticed the way her blue eyes sharpened. "You want to come clean with me about what happened after I went out?" he asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Dad would not have agreed to let me and Sam stay away all summer, even if Bobby and Pastor Jim were threatening him, and he was too damn mad to just forget this soon, so what happened, Morgan?"

"Isn't it more important that your brother is safe and isn't afraid for the time being, Dean?" she countered, too tired and on edge now to keep the tone level. "I made the choice to get you and Sam out of Jim's place because I didn't want to see Sam cry over you anymore."

Not having a valid counterargument to that one, Dean was about to throw something else out when his eyes went to the door and he felt like groaning but not from pain. "Sammy, if you don't go to sleep I swear tomorrow I'm finding the biggest pile of snow and dumping you in it," he threatened, not believing this was happening when he felt a not so subtle smack to the back of his head even though his friend wasn't even close to the bed and he sighed. "What's up, Sammy?" he asked. "Morgan's put you in bed at least three times now, so why the Sam-in-the-box routine?"

Biting his lower lip, Sam took a hesitant step into his brother's room to look between them while bringing the blanket that he was carrying up a little higher without being aware of it. "Can I sleep in here?" he asked quietly, eyes dropping to the floor to avoid his brother's. "Just one more night?"

As Dean was about to speak, he again felt the smack to his head and let out a low growl, but Morgan was already helping Sam up on the queen size bed and he noticed his brother seemed to automatically curl up close to him but without actually touching him.

"Sure, Sammy, you can sleep in here to make sure Dean's not alone," she soothed the boy quietly while giving Dean a look that he knew meant 'keep your mouth shut for once' and arranging the blanket Sam had brought with him over him. "I need to go call Pastor Jim to tell him that Dean woke up anyway so you stay here with Dean."

Sam gave a tired nod before closing his eyes and for once Dean stayed silent as he watched what he soon realized had become a ritual between his friend and his brother. Morgan waited until Sam was more settled to card a hand through his hair and brushed a kiss over his forehead and then she met his gaze briefly before leaving the room, shutting the door without a sound.

Waiting a couple seconds to settle his thoughts and suspicions, Dean eased back on the bed and as he had when Sam had been a toddler running from nightmares, he scooted him in close to his side and was surprised when he felt Sam's arms wrap around him. That told Dean that his brother was still bothered by something.

"What's up with this, Sammy?" he asked finally, letting his voice remain normal despite the lump that was forming for no reason while his fingers seem to begin to card through Sam's slightly too long hair as he normally did when soothing his little brother. "Been awhile since you've wanted to share a bed."

Sam yawned again, beginning to rub at his eyes in a familiar manner. "When we got here, you were so sick and hot that Morgan was with you at night all the time so she'd let me sleep on the other side of the bed once you'd stopped thrashing," he explained sleepily, not seeing his brother's eyes shoot toward the door then back. "I'm…I'm sorry Dad hurt you cause of me, De'n."

"Sam, sure running away from me was stupid and dangerous," Dean began, going on quickly when he felt the boy tense but brought him in tighter against him as he began to rub the same soothing patterns down his brother's back and arm and felt him start to relax again. "What happened between me and Dad though wasn't your fault. Dad was angry and looking for an excuse to lash out. It would've happened when he came home anyway. If not over something you did then at something I did so stop making yourself sick over me being hurt," he told him, knowing it would take longer to convince his brother of that. "Sammy, how long has Morgan been letting you sleep in here and…does she sleep?" he asked casually, knowing his brother was loyal but also half-asleep.

Snuggling closer as he began to finally fall asleep fully, Sam fingers wrapped around Dean's hand on instinct. "We've been here almost two weeks so nearly all of it," he admitted, biting his lip again as he opened tired eyes to look at Dean fully. "She…don' sleep much and when she does since she stays in here with you, she sleeps in the chair over there except for the night she pulled it close to the bed cause she said she needed to keep holding your hand that night. Dean?"

"Yeah, little brother?" Dean suspected he knew why that had been but was too fixated on the small and uncomfortable looking chair that was sitting close to the bed. "Go on to sleep, Sammy."

"Uh-huh," Sam mumbled, letting his eyes drift close. "Morgan glitters sometimes when she thinks I'm asleep," he told his brother quietly but didn't sound disturbed by it. "When we first got here and you were really out of it she'd touch you and her hand would shimmer like. It was pretty but…"

Lightly shoving Sam's face into the pillow in a teasing gesture, Dean forced a smile. "Morg's pretty, little brother and off limits so go to sleep before you get that dragon called a housekeeper jumping down my throat," he warned, more at ease when he finally heard a small giggle as Sam settled down for the night.

"You've got a crush on her," Sam sang softly, knowing it was coming so he didn't react when he felt his brother's hand run down over his face with a muttered 'Shut up, Sam.' "It's okay though, cause she has a huge one on you or so those guys who pop in like to say."

"Really?" that made one eyebrow quirk up as he laid there until he felt Sam relax and he knew that his brother had finally fallen to sleep and would stay that way for a little bit then Dean slowly eased away from the bed but made sure to place several pillows where he'd been in case Sam moved too much. A long ago made habit from when his brother had been a baby and would roll like crazy in his sleep. "Be right back, Sammy," he whispered, searching in his duffel for a second before going out of his room and not having to search far for his friend.

He had known that excuse to call Jim Murphy had just been a way to make it easier for Sam to stay with him but he was surprised when he found Morgan in the Great Room, standing by one of the long windows as if she were watching the still falling snow. He knew the second she became aware of him even before he stepped up to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"You shouldn't have left Sam," she murmured, leaning her forehead against the glass but didn't resist when Dean eased her against him so that she could lay it against his chest. "If he wakes up…"

"He's out for the night," Dean replied, confident of that just as he was confident that Morgan was exhausted. "I thought you'd have gone to bed."

Making a sound that he took for something between a snort and a laugh, Dean had his answer on how long it had been since she'd probably slept and knowing her well enough by now to know he'd never get her to do anything easily he decided to just wait it out but he wasn't expecting what happened next. "So, exactly what have you and my little brother been up to while I've been out cold?" he asked lightly, letting his fingers sift through her hair as he added jokingly. "Not missing me clearly but…hey!"

After nearly two weeks of watching him fight through infection, fevers, wounds that wouldn't heal and a little brother who cried nearly every night while not letting Sam see how worried she was for Dean, those simple joking words set something off in the fourteen-year-old British girl that she couldn't explain. She felt the walls she'd built around all the fear, the worry, and the exhaustion crack in two.

"Let go, Dean," Morgan struggled to keep her voice low so they didn't wake Sam up but as she shoved his arm away and his hand instinctively grabbed her wrist, her own reaction was laced with weeks worth of pent up emotion and she shoved him back two steps. "How the bloody hell can you say that he didn't care about you?" she demanded angrily, still hearing Sam the first night in the cabin when she'd found him curled in the closet in his room sobbing for his brother. "You didn't see him! You didn't the damn marks on his arms from that bastard of a Father you have! You haven't seen him cry himself to sleep next to you for two bloody weeks while I told him it would be fine! Don't you _ever _say that Sam didn't care…"

Realizing that Dean hadn't moved except to catch her hands before they could shove him again and then he was only holding them loosely, Morgan breath caught and the panic set in as she felt the tears that she'd been hiding begin to burn and she knew she needed to get away from him. "I…I have to…" trying to pull back, she was surprised at the sudden strength in his hands yet even as he continued to hold onto to her hands, he didn't use enough strength to hurt her. "Let go. I have to go…do…check…damn it, Dean…"

As soon as her words began to run together and he heard her voice break, Dean merely gave a slight tug to pull her into his arms. "C'mere, Angel," he murmured, not surprised to feel her shaking but he was surprised to feel her so cold as he moved toward the long wrap around sofa to sit down while making sure to keep Morgan in his arms even as she struggled to move away. "Sshhh, stop it, calm down and tell me what the hell I said to cause this to…" the teenager stopped when the weakly struggling young girl in his arms finally crashed and the link they shared showed him what she wouldn't.

"Damn, Morgan," he whispered, glad his brother wasn't around to see him about to throw the no-chick-flick moment rule out the window as he quickly brought his now crying friend fully into his arms to hold her while gently letting his fingers move in slow patterns over her back and against he face while beginning to rock slowly. "You and Sam were here for a week before the caretakers arrived to help you," he swallowed the curses he could have thrown as he realized what that meant. "For a week, you took care of me at my worst, took care of Sammy all the time and still sat up all night with me. You took the damn wounds because you couldn't heal them all and still have the strength to care for Sam. You'll still feeling the effects of those yet you made certain to play with Sam to distract him from my injuries…have you slept at all?" he finally asked, feeling her turn into him to bury her face against his neck.

It took several moments of near silence before he finally heard a soft 'Some,' as his answer and once again he wanted to swear but this time at Pastor Jim for allowing her to take on the responsibility of caring for both him and his brother. Dean knew however that Sam would never have left him and that more than likely Morgan had reacted in a way to protect them and wasn't thinking of the outcome if she would have cared anyway.

"Okay," he slowly settled down, figuring that now that he knew what was going on and now that he was mostly conscious that he could take some of the pressure off his friend but first he needed to calm her down again so she could sleep. "Hey, I have something for you," he began with a sigh, knowing this wasn't how he pictured doing this but figuring it might help her focus on him and not the thoughts flashing through her head right then. "You are not letting me down. Morg, you've focused on Sam and me for two weeks with barely any sleep. You're crashing and burning, babe."

"Am not," came a tired retort that made him grin while he reached into a pocket for a small box he'd had in his duffel since his dad had given it to him.

"Yeah, you so are," he came back while placing the box in the hand closest to him. "I had that with me the last time you dropped by but Dad was there that time so I…well, it's not anything really but I…" Dean swore at himself for sounding like a stuttering fool over something so simple. "It's just that I…damn it, here," he muttered darkly then waited as she stared at the box with glassy blue eyes before blinking them clear to open the box and he heard a soft gasp. "It was my Mom's," he explained hurriedly then guessed that might make this worse. "Dad had taken it to have it engraved for Christmas before the fire he said and he hadn't given it back to her when…well, you know, so he gave it to me when I turned sixteen for, and I quote, find that special someone to…" stopping when he realized how that sounded, the elder Winchester suddenly wished he could just vanish.

Staring at the pretty silver chain with a entwined heart on it, Morgan traced it with a fingertip before lifting tired eyes to see that Dean was watching her while chewing on his lip. "It was your Mom's," she murmured, understanding the significance of that even if he didn't right then and also understanding how his Father would feel if her found out. "Dean, your Dad…he won't…"

"He gave it to me," Dean cut her off, suddenly positive this is what he wanted to do and also that his Mom would so approve of this spunky little girl…though he'd be dead if she ever heard him refer to her as spunky. "I…I want you to have it so…y'know, can I help you put it on?"

Hesitating a second and feeling every unsteady beat of his heart under her hand, Morgan slowly nodded. Beginning to ease back only to feel his hand immediately stop her, Dean was careful as he slipped the necklace on and had to blink several times to find the clasp but once he felt it hook he let his finger trace the chain where it fell. Finding himself meeting her eyes to read the emotions in them and through a link that he'd make damn sure no one ever learned about, Dean was shocked to find his hands shaking now when they hadn't before.

"Thanks, Dean," Morgan had glanced down at the necklace before quickly brushing a shy kiss against his lips, then felt his fingers shaking as they cupped the back her neck. "Dean?"

"Sammy says you have a crush on me," he murmured, wondering why this was so hard when he'd done a hell of a lot more with other girls but needing to give her a chance at stopping what he only intended to be a simple kiss.

Reaching up to wipe her eyes free of tears, Morgan felt his nerves as she felt his fingers shift to stroke. "Sammy has a big mouth for such a small boy," she returned sourly, considering. "Are you going to kiss me, Dean?"

"Planning on it if you don't say anything different," Dean admitted, not showing any surprise at her question even though he'd never been asked that before…of course he normally didn't give a girl a chance to see his move coming so when he finally realized she was just watching him, he coughed awkwardly. "You have an objection if I wanted to kiss you, Morg?" he asked quietly, silently hoping she didn't.

"No, not really," though he could see a slight hesitance in her eyes that he quickly as understood when she went on more quietly. "Sammy said that you're pretty popular in the schools you go to, with the girls I mean, and…Dean, I've never kissed a boy before and…" her rush of words cut off when Dean leaned down to lay a gentle kiss over her mouth,

Holding the kiss for a lot less than he normally would, Dean eased back just enough to kiss her cheek while offering his own opinion of his little brother's helpful stories. "Sam is going to get tossed in a snow pile as soon as I get him outside," and he heard a small giggle escape his friend which made him smile, slowly moving closer to try for another kiss when…

"Dean?"

Fighting off the groan that nearly escaped him, Dean's arms tightened to hold Morgan in his arms even as he was looking over toward the hall. "Have I ever mentioned that you have got to have the worst timing, little brother?" he inquired with that he figured was honest restraint even as he was noticing the way Sam seemed to be shaking and he sighed. "C'mere, Sam," he motioned his brother over to the couch.

Sam took a step when he frowned a little before turning to run back down the hall and Dean sighed, wondering if he should have talked to Sam since he had assumed his brother knew what was happening between him and Morgan. He heard a rustling as his brother emerged again carrying both his blanket and the large hunter green comforter that was on Dean's bed and the older boy understand what his brother was doing.

Nodding to Sam, Dean moved on the sofa until he was back in the corner back where he could stretch his one leg out that was now starting to pinch but he could still shift Morgan against him so that she was laying with her head against his chest. He started to use his other foot to pull the large oversized footstool close only to have Sam push it against the sofa. "Come up here, Sammy," he told his brother who was watching them with wide puppy dog eyes that never failed to reach into Dean's soul.

"Morgan sleeping?" Sam asked softly, easing onto the footstool before his brother nodded to his other side but Sam had other ideas as he laid his pillow down against his brother's thigh and laid down so that Dean had plenty of room to move the leg he had stretched out.

On instinct, Morgan had reached to keep the smaller boy from falling backwards so Dean merely shrugged, letting his hand run over his friend's hair and allowed his fingers to move in a pattern he knew she'd know. "Duh," she murmured sleepily while tucking Sam safely into her arms while Dean spread the large comforter out over them before settling back to watch as his little brother and their friend slept against him.

"It's all gonna be good," he spoke softly, knowing he was the only one still awake and didn't mind that for some reason since it seems natural for him to watch over the two people he quickly realized were what made his life good. Now he just needed to find a way to keep it that way and not let his Dad ruin it.

**Present Day: Singer Salvage:**

Letting his eyes remain closed, Dean allowed the silver chain he'd found in Morgan's jacket pocket to run through his fingers as he remembered the day he'd first given it to her. Opening his eyes to see that Sam had flopped back to his side facing the other bed, but he noticed that Sam still appeared to be calm so he was about to push to his feet when he felt the soft brush of fingers against the back of his and immediately some of his anxiety went away.

"Facing Lucifer, brilliant strategy there," he complained, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was while reaching back to grasp the still cold hold but smiled with relief when he felt her fingers grasp his. "We really need to discuss your plans, babe."

Shifting so he could glance over his shoulder, Dean's gaze immediately went to the still tired blue eyes that he figured had been watching him for the past several minutes. "You worry me sometimes, Morgan," he told her, finally pulling himself back up so he could sit on the bedside to hold a plastic bottle of water to her lips.

Wincing as the cold water touched her dry and split lips, Morgan could've snorted at that statement but decided to wait until she felt a little better but couldn't quite let him off the hook. "You…you want me to name the times you've worried me, slick?"

"Not unless you really feel up to talking to me about all those times you've been watching out for me and Sam," Dean returned, seeing her eyes roll in a way that meant he was about to be insulted.

"Sam, not so much," she murmured, reaching for the bottle of water herself only to have Dean keep a grasp on it while helping he sit against the headboard. "You, on the other hand, every time I turned around some spirit, witch, or other creature with sharp teeth were trying to take a chunk outta you," she blinked a couple times before he finally came into focus. "That doesn't include all the close encounters with cops, Feds, and other agencies that could've nailed your cocky ass over the years…and you do not want to know the names I called that FBI bloke who locked you and Sammy up and…" she made a swipe to slap at him but missed by a good foot which told Dean that her vision was still off. "What the bloody hell were you doing getting yourselves locked up in a State Pen? If that top guard hadn't gotten you two out I would've had to have pulled some bloody huge favors in to get you out of that one and…what?"

Tongue stuck in his cheek to try to keep a straight face, Dean finally had to chuckle. "You know I know that Sam picked up bad habits from you?" he asked, seeing her eyes narrow dangerously. "When's he's sick or hurt real bad, he's all clingy and emotional. You? You just babble on and on about anything that comes to mind and usually that's me…which I should take advantage of since I normally can't find you this chatty."

"I don't babble and you were a huge pain in the ass to watch over, Dean," Morgan tossed back, refusing to sulk as she shifted a look to check on Sam and by the small frown that formed Dean guessed she wasn't any happier that his brother was still sleeping than he was. "He's dreaming but I can't tell of what yet…"

Using both hands to cup her face in order to guide her eyes back to his, Dean's expression was serious. "Don't try to read him while you're this weak," he warned, shutting her up with a look he knew only worked a few times. "I can't handle you both sick like this, Morg," he told her, moving his hands from her face in order to slip the necklace back around her neck. "God, I still don't know how you managed to take care of both me and Sam back then. I've got Bobby and Cas to help and I still feel like it's all going wrong."

"I just had to worry about you getting better and keeping Sam distracted. You have a few other problems to handle," she replied with a yawn then frowned. "Bobby? You brought us to Bobby's?"

"Yeah, and I…owe you an apology for a few things," Dean muttered, not happy about that but also willing to admit when he was wrong. "You still wrote to us even though you never got a reply, why?"

Blinking at the question, it took Morgan a couple minutes to understand what he was saying and then she noticed the letters he'd scattered on the floor, drawing in a slow breath. "It got to be a habit and I figured that one day he might give 'em to one of you," she shrugged, not seeing the way his brow furrowed. "I stopped writing to you after your deal came due because it hurt too bad to think that even then…even with only a bleedin' year to live before going to Hell you couldn't at least call me to say 'hey, I was too stubborn to call when some jerk killed Sam. So I made a deal with a Crossroads demon and only have a year to live so could you watch out for Sam?' That hurt so much, Dean so I kept writing to Sammy even though I knew he was so far down a path neither of us wanted and I did what I could to keep him alive but…"

"I know," Dean murmured, looking down at their fingers before tightening them. "You knew Bobby had the letters?"

"After you…after your deal…" Morgan but off, refusing to say that he died. "I came by to tell him that he had to latch onto Sam before he went off the edge but Bobby wasn't any better," she sighed, recalling that day. "I found the letters while clearing away empty bottles and once he sobered up real fast well…he kept them for a good reason, I guess."

"Care to tell me what that might be?" Dean demanded, anger still evident. "All the hate, the pain and hurt could've been prevented if he'd given me one single letter over the past fifteen years, Morgan. There's no reason or excuse good enough to keep that from me or from Sam."

Closing her eyes briefly, Morgan sighed. "You loved your Dad, Dean. Any one of those letter from e to you, which I see you haven't opened yet, would have either destroyed what relationship you had with John or made it worse between us. Because I can promise you would've come looking for me and if you'd showed up in a rage, I would've sent you to hell a lot sooner than you went, mate," she replied simply, starting to move her hand just as he grasped her wrist. "Dean…"

"I loved you," he stressed those words without even realizing he had said them until he saw the way her eyes widened. "Fine, I said it but I did and I had a right to know why you left. I still have that right."

"Fine, but not while Sam's like this," Morgan argued, knowing that Dean was torn already. "He's locked in his mind centered on that time. He can't recall that last day, Dean. He's scared now just by recalling your injuries so we need to get him back without him remembering that last bloody night."

Shaking his head, Dean shrugged but glanced at his brother. "Sammy said he sat at the top of the stairs and heard you and Dad fight. Dad threatened to separate us if I didn't leave you and that you left to protect us so I don't see why he…" by the way she looked away though told Dean that something else was wrong but before he could ask, Sam's body suddenly spasmed on his bed just before the light in the ceiling began blinking.

"What the hell?" he was starting to go toward his brother when Sam's eyes suddenly snapped open with no recognition, only terror and Dean found himself slammed out into the hall with his head banging off the wall. "Sam!" he shouted, shoving to his feet just as the bedroom door was slammed shut and refused to budge. "Sam! Damn it. Morgan, what's happening?" he demanded, not liking the sudden brief burst of understanding then fear he felt over their link before it went dim. "Morgan!" he pounded on the door even as he could hear Bobby shouting from the bottom of the steps.

"What the hell are you idjits doing to my house?" he demanded loudly, slapping Castiel on the arm. "Zap me up there, ya featherbrain!"

Dean heard something crash in the bedroom, swearing when he couldn't even kick in the damn door. "Sam! Sammy, wake up and listen to Morgan or I swear when I get in there I am so kicking your ass!"

"Dean, that isn't your brother," Castiel's grim voice registered and as soon as it had the Angel found himself up against the wall.

"What. The. Hell. Is. Happening?" Dean gritted, seeing that Jack MacShayne was standing behind Bobby and not looking happy. "I can't get Morgan to answer me. I saw Sam's eyes when they opened and…they weren't my brother's. Now what the hell's going on. She stopped Lucifer from claiming him."

Jack scowled while figuring a way through the damn wards on this house to cast a spell. "It's not Lucifer, Dean!" he snapped, glaring at Castiel. "With all that was going on, all the power influences of Lucifer, Zachariah and such I couldn't get a good reading on Sam back in West Virginia," he tried to explain as Dean whirled back as a scream was heard and he recognized it easily. "That witches' house was tainted with so much evil energy that it was actually like a doorway and it…allowed something to come through that I wasn't expecting."

Hearing Morgan cry out in pain and shock like that sent Dean over the edge along with his worry over his brother's already fragile sanity so he reacted like normal. Grabbing Jack by the throat, he slammed the barrel of his .45 into the mystic's face. "Tell me in five words or less what the hell is in Sammy!" he gritted, green eyes glittering dangerously.

"Your Father."

**TBC**

**A/N: **_First let me apologize for the delay in updating. Family issues prevented much writing this weekend which I felt horrible for since I'm normally very good at updating Sam and Dean._

_Next, don't you hate my cliffhangers? I know I do. Poor Sam. His mind is actually tortured over so much not he's picked up a spirit with an axe to grind. How will Dean heal his brother or stop him before he goes to far? Can Dean handle the spirit of a Father he still has so much unresolved issues with? Also, what did happen between Bobby and John fifteen years ago after they returned to Pastor Jim? Will Lucifer stop his claim on Sammy as it his or will be return? Come back for CH 9 to see._


	9. Chapter 9

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Nine**

**Singer Salvage, Sioux Falls, SD:**

Dean Winchester's life had been hell, quite literally, recently and though he had honestly believed that it couldn't get any worse that recent events, the words that came from the mystic's mouth just then threw what calmness he might have had, out the window.

So far in recent months, he and Sam had jump started the damn Apocalypse, he'd nearly gotten his brother killed by allowing him to go off on his own, he'd been tossed five years into the damn future to find out that Lucifer plans to inhabit his little brother's body while his older self had not impressed Dean at all.

Now, Sam had been battling the guilt of losing Jo and Ellen Harvelle on top of all the other guilt he carries. To find himself hurt seriously, mentally regressed back to a time in their lives that Dean still didn't have all the answers to and now…now somehow in the midst of saving Morgan in West Virginia, Sam had picked up a stowaway…a rather violent and really bad stowaway, and it all just crashed down on Dean.

"You do realize that .45 won't hurt me very much, right?" Jack MacShayne finally asked curiously when Dean didn't move the weapon from where he'd had it in his face.

Hearing something crash from inside the bedroom he and Sam had always shared snapped Dean back when his forearm went flat into the mystic's throat. "How is my Dad in Sam and how the hell do I get him out?" he demanded, fighting to keep both panic and fear down. "Give me a damn straight answer ir I find out if that demon killing knife hurts you."

Jack's muscle in his twitched while considering the cost if he fried this one but a whistle from the steps had him biting back the urge. "I told you, all the powers that were floating around in that damn town screwed up my ability to feel something as meager as a spirit. It wasn't until my brother Ethan called, yes he uses a cell phone, to ask if I got rid of the ghost that was hanging around your brother that I realized something had attached itself to him. It wasn't until I got here that I could tell what spirit but…" he paused to throw a dark glare toward Bobby Singer. "I wanted to get to you three before the spirit could gain control so I could toss its butt out but I had a problem with some crazy old hunter in a wheelchair with a goddamn shotgun trying to shoot my head off!"

"You could've just said that!" Bobby snapped back, still fingering the weapon. "I ain't letting someone in my place with powers like you got, boy!"

"I passed the damn Devil's Trap, old man!" Jack was still furious and didn't see the need to mention that passing over that Devil's Trap hadn't been easy but not impossible for him since his mother's blood diluted whatever he got from his father.

Not wanting to hear anymore, Dean shoved Jack back against the wall harder and didn't care at the spark of power he felt go up his arms. "Get the door open and get him out of Sam or at least get me in there!" he ground out, hissing as he felt pain. "She can't take him on while he's in Sam because Morgan would rather die than hurt Sam, I know that."

"Yeah, so do I," Jack muttered, finally having enough of being manhandled and shoving the hunter back physically. "Getting in now, however, is going to be a huge problem because the crazy old man here has every ward, sigal, and spell in place on this house to make it nearly impossible for me to use my powers to any degree," he complained bitterly. "Until I can get at least one wall down, I can't get into that room and I can't pull your Dad's spirit out either so…"

"So Morgan's trapped in a room with no weapons, essentially no power to speak of yet and the spirit of my Father who hates her is in my brother…who I know she'd never raise a hand to even at the cost of her own life," Dean whirled to slam a fist into the door but didn't feel it budge. "Sammy, you can fight this!" he shouted, hoping his brother could hear him. "And Dad, you hurt either of them when I do get in there I am so kicking your ass outta my brother with a load of rocksalt!" he added loudly, nearly doubling up as pain went through his side and he knew that he needed in that room. "Cas!"

Assuming what Dean wanted, the Angel considered. "I can probably get you into the bedroom but can you handle Sam?" he asked, understanding the complex relationship between the brothers. "If your friend won't harm Sam, can you if it comes down to protecting her or dealing with your Father?"

That made Dean stop because he knew that after everything that had happened between them, he had swore to himself never to raise a hand to his brother again and while it wasn't Sam in control, it would be Sam's already battered body taking the abuse. "Why the hell would Dad want to possess Sam?" he demanded bitterly, laying a hand flat on the door as if trying to get an idea of what was happening in the room. "How could he?"

"That whole area was like one big gate for the supernatural and since no one knows were your Dad's spirit went after it escaped Hell that night, I'm guessing that's how he reentered this plane of reality and as far why?" Jack shrugged. "Got me since my baby brother's record keeping of the boss's time with you are few and far between but I suppose he's using Sam since as his son it was easier to attach itself to."

"This is bad," Bobby muttered, wheeling closer to where Dean was now pacing to pound a fist on the door. "John! You let that boy loose, get outta him, or I'll do what I swore to you I would that day at Jim's!" he hollered but no sound came until a scream was heard and only a quick move from Castiel had Dean held back. "John! Damn it, you let both those kids go!"

"Yeah, I'm guessing Winchester isn't in the frame of mind to listen," Kelly Robinson spoke from where he'd been leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. "I mean, his relationship with Sam was strained for years and he would've killed the kid if…don't reach for that shotgun, Singer," he warned, realizing that he'd come too close anyway to saying too much.

Dean was now staring between them, teeth gritting. "Alright," he breathed as if trying to control his temper. "I know about the fight Morgan and Dad had before I woke up in the cabin and I still want to know about what the hell happened the night she ran but…" he stopped to look directly at Bobby. "I also know that my Dad, in the state he was in that week, wouldn't have just let me and Sam stay out all summer with a girl he barely tolerated, so care to tell me what you or Pastor Jim said to make him leave us alone? Or didn't he want to look for us?"

"Boy, you got more to worry about than that," Bobby growled, going to wheel around when a hand grabbed the chair. "Dean, it don't matter none what happened because even though John backed off for the summer he made up for his temper later on now…"

"_Tell me_!" Dean snapped, stepping in front of his friend. "Morgan and Sam are both in danger! I need to know everything about that damn summer because even if I can handle this crap with Dad, I still have to get Sam's mind back out of the past. I don't think having Dad in his body is gonna help this because the way Morgan was acting, something happened that Sammy didn't know or doesn't remember because she kept saying that he couldn't remember what really happened," he declared, seeing the older man's head drop and threw his arms up. "Bobby! Dad was furious and out of his head when he dropped us on Jim. He couldn't have taken being threatened by a little girl too well and he sure as hell shouldn't have just let us go without even trying to…"

"Jim threatened to turn him into CPS if he didn't let you boys go that summer," Bobby sighed, jerking his hat off as he did when upset or frustrated. "I just threatened to shoot him in the damn head, cut him into little pieces and bury him so far in the ground the wildlife couldn't find him and raise you two myself if he didn't back off."

Blinking, Dean couldn't believe either man had responded like that but knew that after the events of that summer his Dad was leery about going back to Blue Earth and only dealt with Jim Murphy as a last resort. "Fine, you tell me about it while Cas finds me a way into that room and you two geniuses find me a way to slow my Dad down until I get him out of Sam," Dean spoke as he headed downstairs to grab something from Bobby's library.

"What exactly are you going to be doing?" Jack demanded, not liking this plan.

Pausing at the top of the stairs to look back, Dean's eyes drifted to the sealed bedroom door and two people he desperately needed to get to. "Brushing up on my Latin," he shrugged. "Bobby, talk!"

**Inside the Bedroom:**

"Dean!" Morgan had felt the change in the room only a second before her friend was forcibly shoved into the hall and the door slamming shut. "Sammy?" she was already pushing to her feet when a 6th sense warned her to move and she barely avoided the dresser drawer that was sent flying her way. "Sam! What the bloody hell's gotten into you?"

Not fully stable yet, Morgan knew she couldn't handle the younger man in a fight even in his weakened condition because even hurt, scared, and confused, Sam Winchester had been taught to fight by the best of them and at 6'4", a good full foot taller than Morgan herself, she gave up too much in height and weight.

Hearing Dean pound on the door but not be able to open it, told the young woman that something was clearly wrong. She knew about Sam's powers and his addiction to the demon blood, but she could feel both and this didn't feel like those vibes. This was a completely different feeling, one that was oddly familiar if only she could clear her brain enough to think.

"Sammy?" without thinking, Morgan reached to lay a hand on her friend as she normally would but wasn't expecting the sizzling pain that ripped through her when she was physically thrown across the room to crash against the dresser. "Sam…wha…"

This time when he turned, she could see his normally calm, wide and innocent hazel eyes had a harder glint to them and they weren't quite the right color and she knew before she heard him speak what was happening. "Sammy's taking…a nap and can't help you this time."

"Sam and Dean both…have anti-possession charms tattooed on them so there's no bloody way anyone could possess Sam," she stated, fighting not to hiss in pain while struggling to get up while hearing Dean shouting from the hall. "I'd feel a demon and Angels don't possess vessels like that so…" Morgan stopped as Sam's body cracked his knuckles and she knew. "Bloody hell," she whispered. "John."

"A spirit, especially one related by blood, isn't going to be deterred by those marks. You should know that," Sam spoke but the tone was different. It was harder, colder and so much like John Winchester that Morgan didn't have any further doubts who was controlling the injured hunter. "Even so, only with Sammy being this hurt and his mind not being stronger enough to resist allowed me to get in and take over."

Finally getting to her feet, Morgan suspected this was going to be bad since she had a hunch that she was on her own. "Get out of Sam," she ordered, diving to the side to barely avoid the lamp that shot at her head. "He's been through too much. This could kill him or make it harder to get him back!"

"Sam's mind is shattered. He's holding on to the thin line that he is by force of will and even that can break," 'John' replied, not seeming too concerned about his youngest son's mental or physical health as he waved a hand and one of the beds lifted off the floor. "Right now, he's an easy tool."

"That's all the boys have ever been to you!" Morgan snapped, hand shooting up on instinct to enact powers that should've been able to stop the bed but quickly realized she was still too weak after confronting Lucifer to have the energy needed for this fight. "Shit, shit, shit!" she dodged the bed but not cleanly as she felt the edge of the heavy frame clip her still injured shoulder and she couldn't stop the pained cry. "So…you've locked Dean out so you can use his brother for…what? To get to me?" she demanded, figuring this fight wouldn't last long with as weak as she was and now that her arm was next to useless. "You could've done that without touching Sam."

The expression he offered was nothing like Sam could ever have brought to his face, not even at his worst during a demon blood high. "Except as a pure spirit there wouldn't be anything to stop you or those freaks you work with from reducing my spirit form back to nothing," he replied easily, stepping around the broken furniture to catch her already injured arm and twist it roughly behind her back. "I knew you wouldn't harm this body since neither you nor his brother will touch Sammy so that's a plus."

"It's…Sam," Morgan gasped in pain when he twisted her arm again before she was slammed into the wall across from the door. "Only…Dean can call him…Sammy."

"You have," 'John' remarked, memories still plain as hearing her call his youngest son by that nickname he knew the boy normally hated.

"Sam…let me use it," she shot out, refusing to let this thing inside her friend take from him the one good thing he and his brother still had. "You…don't have the bleedin' right to use it. You're pissed because I took the boys away that summer and because I stopped you from touching Sam here…so kill me and get the hell outta him."

Using his other hand to pull the knife that had fallen out from under Dean's pillow when the bed had gone flying, 'John' lightly let it press against her throat. "You left out one other thing, little girl," he told her, voice going cold even as his eyes slid to the door that Bobby was now shouting through. "You and your interference nearly cost me my boys because Dean knew better than to ever let Bobby know anything about what happened in our lives. Your show not only told me that my son was too stupid not to recognize evil when he saw it but it let Bobby know about Dean's injuries that time," gripping her hair hard, he pressed the knife more against soft flesh. "I didn't appreciate that…"

**Flashback: Blue Earth Montana, 1995:**

"John, you get your ass back here cause I ain't done!"

Pastor Jim Murphy closed the journal he'd been writing in at the first sound of doors slamming and shouts coming his way and he reached for the already loaded and cocked rifle he'd placed by his desk after he'd talked with Caleb earlier. "Well, I guess hoping that he'd calmed down some in a week was foolish," he sighed even as the door to his private office slammed open. "Hello, John. Good hunt?"

He had spoken to Bobby a day or so after Morgan had visited with her not so subtle warning so he'd known what had happened between the Winchester boys father and the teenager. He'd also known that Bobby was a step away from killing John.

Clearly that hadn't happened…yet. Though he wasn't going to say it wouldn't soon by the way his friend now looked as he stormed into the office.

"Where the hell are my boys?" he demanded, slamming both hands down onto the desk. "I told you to lock 'em in their room but keep them here! Now, I find out that Dean's little 'friend' should've been put down the second I first laid eyes on her. Did you know what she was, Murphy?" he asked angrily, still feeling rage and humiliation at being put down by a teenage girl half his size. "Did you know that she was a…"

"Do you recall when we first met I told you that in this business you would, on occasion, encounter something of a gray area?" Jim countered, nodding his greeting to the obviously still pissed off Bobby Singer while guessing that Caleb was probably raiding the kitchen already. "Well, Morgan falls somewhat in that gray area. Yes, she has abilities but no, she's not like what we hunt. She's…"

"…a goddamn freak who I'll kill myself if she touches my sons!" John snapped, leaning over the desk so that he was close to being in Jim's face. "Now, where the hell are my sons?"

Sitting back with more calm than he actually felt, Jim steepled his fingers even as Bobby was trying to pull the enraged man back. "I can honestly say that I don't know where they boys are, John," he admitted, even though he had a strong hunch he wasn't about to tell John that. "Given Dean's condition and how upset Sam was, I agreed that it was for the best that they and Morgan go somewhere for the summer, both to give the boys a chance to heal and for you to get your damn self together."

"You self-righteous, sanctimonious…" John Winchester's face went past livid as he jerked free of Bobby's grasp. "I left those boys here because I thought you could watch them! Now, it's been a week and I'll have a hell of a time picking up their trail to find them and drag them…"

"You're going to leave Sam and Dean alone until the end of the summer, John," Jim told him firmly, knowing this was going to be hard and praying that Bobby backed him up. "You're going to hunt with me or Bobby and Caleb until the end of the summer when the boys will be at Bobby's. You are not going to go hunt them down like rabid dogs…you are going to leave them out and leave them the hell alone."

John stared at the Holy man like he'd grown two more heads before he busted out laughing. "You think I'm leaving my sons out by themselves with a girl that Dean should've killed the first time he met her? You seriously think I'm going to allow them to get away with disobeying my direct orders like this?" he demanded with a snort of disbelief, shaking his head. "You're more insane than I thought, Jim," he growled, turning to storm out of the office. "I'll go find them myself and then I'll make certain that both of those boys understand never to disobey me again or…"

"Damn it, John!" Bobby snapped, starting to grab the other man when the rifle fired once, striking the wooden doorframe a half inch from John's head, stopping him cold.

"John Winchester, you take one more step and I'll put the next round through your damn heart," Jim snapped, the sound of the rifle cocking again could be heard in the now silent office. "Sit down, John."

Turning slowly to see the rifle was steadily aimed at his heart, John slumped down on the sofa against the wall. "What, you're going to keep that rifle on me the entire summer, Jim?" he laughed. "You know as soon as I do leave here, I will find my sons and I'm going to…"

"No, you won't," Jim interrupted, lowering the rifle but not setting it aside as he sat himself down in the chair across from his angry friend to explain the situation as he saw it. "Yes, you are Dean and Sam's father and neither Bobby nor I have a legal right to tell you how to raise them," he began, seeing the trucker cap wearing hunter about to explode when he shook his head at him. "However, and this is the part you need to pay close attention to, John because I am perfectly serious and very willing to act if you don't."

"What?" John demanded, leaning up. "What do you think you can do to threaten me not to go drag my boys back from wherever that little brat took them?" he inquired, knowing deep down not to underestimate the Holy man turned hunter but ignoring those senses.

Jim reached for a folder on the side table near the chair. Placing it on the footstool near him, he removed a final drafted, very official looking letter as well as some very nasty looking photographs of Dean's most recent injuries. "I don't want to do this but if you go after those kids before the summer is out. If you try to touch any of those children ever again and I find out about it, I will see that this file gets delivered to every Child Protective Service agency around the country," he threatened seriously, seeing Bobby's eyebrows about to crawl off his head. "Both Bobby and I've warned you about physically abusing Dean or Sam, John. You beat Dean so much I was afraid he'd slipped into a coma at one point. There was a goddamn boot print on that boy's side! If you try to find them or touch one of those boys again, I will personally see to it that you lose your sons."

While John's jaw was working around that threat, Bobby had snatched the photos from Jim to look at them for himself. He'd had a bad idea from the girl's words that the older boy had been hurt pretty bad to send her after John but it wasn't until he saw the colored photos of all of Dean's numerous bruises, welts, cuts and finally the boot print that nearly caved his ribs in that he saw red.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" he didn't give a damn if this was Jim's hand to play once he saw that last photo he'd made up his mind, grabbing a startled John up off the sofa to slam several hard punches into his face and gut before slamming him against the wall. "What the hell did you think you were doing, John?" he demanded angrily, still clutching the photo that had made him livid and shoving it into his friend's face. "I don't give a rat's ass if you think Dean failed to keep Sam safe! I don't care if you were mad and lost your temper! This ain't no damn whippin' or punishment for your son! This is the kind of beatin' you give a man who's wronged you or tried to kill you but you don't go beatin' on your own son like this!"

As John struggled against the hold, Bobby yanked the .45 he carried out to shove the barrel against the other man's cheek even as Jim was standing up. "I knew you were beatin' on that boy but goddamn it, if I had known you'd done this, hell I would've killed you up there," he growled, making sure John was getting the point. "You can take Jim at his word for what he'll do to ya but you can also listen real closely to me because I'm only saying this once…"

Bobby rapped the butt of his gun hard against John's still sore head before cocking it meaningfully. "Jim might be willing to do things legal, but I say the hell with that crap cause if you get the hint of CPS on your ass you'll just take the boys under ground so no one finds 'em so here's my warning to ya, John," he growled in a lower tone, fully serious. "If you go after those boys of yours before they touch my property or if I ever find out that you've hurt one of them this bad ever again, I'll shot you full of so many damn holes that you'll bleed out like a damn colander. Then I'll cut you into so many pieces and bury you so damn deep that not even the best scavenger will find you!" he promised. "You getting this, John or do you really want to tempt me? You don't ever put your damn hands on Dean again or I'll kill you and raise 'em myself!"

"Whoa, what the hell's going on?" Caleb asked as he walked in to immediately feel the tension between the three men before his gaze fell on the photo in Bobby's hand and his sandwich was forgotten. "Shit! What the hell…awww, man."

Finally shoving Bobby away, John glared at the two men. "Fine!" he spat. "You want 'em left alone all summer so who knows what could go after 'em, fine! Just don't ever threaten me because they're still my boys and I know how to raise 'em," he declared firmly.

"Then I hope for your sake that you remember what it means to be a Father and not a damn Drill Sergeant, John," Jim replied, sighing as the man stormed out and they heard the sound of the Impala leaving with a roar. "Damn it."

**Present Day: Singer Salvage:**

"You twisted the minds of my boys and nearly cost me two good friends but then…Dean believed what I said, didn't he?" 'John' remarked, making Sam's hand press the knife harder into his friend's throat.

Morgan found that she couldn't break the hold he had on her hair or summon enough power to shove him back, not that she could without hurting Sam and she didn't like the way the hall had gone silent too quickly.

Looking into Sam's eyes, she couldn't find any trace of the gentle young man and wondered just how much farther he'd been pushed aside by this intrusion. "Jim and Bobby…did what they thought they had to…to protect the boys, John," she spoke tightly, feeling the blade cut as she did but refused to show fear to a man who had done so much harm to his own sons even if Dean didn't know all of it.

"I lost Sammy because of the lies you put in his head!" 'John' snapped, anger reminding her eerily of that last day here. "You think I'd lose Dean too? Sure, I lied to him about why you left him but then he never found out, did he? Sam doesn't remember…yet."

"Sam doesn't need to remember that," Morgan argued, the first trace of worry surfacing since she knew that Sam was filled with enough guilt. The he didn't need to fully remember what had happened that day on top of his other memories of just a few days prior when they'd first arrived in Sioux Falls. "Damn it, John. Don't punish Sam anymore than he has been. Just kill me and leave him alone."

Taking the tip of the knife to lightly run it down her cheek, 'John' stared into her eyes and didn't like that the only fear he saw came for her concern for Sam. "They were my sons," he replied lowly. "A son should respect his Father. My boys did until they first met you and…"

"You lost your sons when you tried to turn them into little soldiers," she snapped, willing to take the blame for a lot but not this but screamed when the knife pieced her already hurt shoulder.

"Dean never questioned me! Until he met you!" 'John yelled, jerking the knife out without care and smiled as the young woman cried out again. "You don't think I know you were watching my boys even after you left? I did, always after the fact cause if I could have killed you then I might not have lost them all the way."

Gasping in pain but ignoring the cold and sudden nausea, Morgan forced her eyes to hold his. "You…lost them because of your own damn stubborn pride, old man," she gritted between clenched teeth to keep the pain back because the way he had her arm twisted, it was bleeding far more than she liked and she couldn't get the tiny link she still shared with Sam to work either. "You made the damn deal. I came to that bloody hospital as soon as I heard about Dean being in a coma. I could've healed him but you refused to let me. You called the bloody security so I couldn't heal Dean."

"I wasn't letting you use those unholy powers on my son!" he snarled, fist crashing into the side of her face several times before in a show of the rage still inside even a spirit he threw the nearly unconscious young woman hard into the corner and had just started to reach for her throat. "I would rather Dean have died if I couldn't make the deal than let him live that way! I would have had to kill both of my boys if you had touched him," 'John' responded hotly, fingers just closing on her throat. "It was bad enough that evil touched Sam to turn him into what he's become. I wouldn't see Dean touched like that."

Pain and shock was making staying conscious difficult when a soft fluttering sound made Morgan look past the shoulder of her friend's body to see… "…Dean…" she whispered, beginning to see white spots as Sam's fingers were forced closed around her throat.

"Dean can't save you, whore," 'John' growled when he suddenly heard what sounded like a shotgun pumping and a voice that nearly made him lose control of his younger son's body.

"Wanna bet?" Dean's voice was hard as he lifted the shotgun even as his brother's body was turning to stare at him with eyes that were so not Sam's. "Step away from her, Dad."

Frowning at his older son's appearance, 'John' didn't worry too much as he turned to face his son but kept Sam's hand on Morgan's throat. "You won't shoot that, son," he told him, smiling. "If you did, you'd only hurt your brother and we both know that you won't…"

The shotgun fired and the round of rock salt struck Sam square in the chest, knocking him backwards toward the other corner but also breaking the grip he had on Morgan's neck.

"Cas, get him downstairs!" Dean snapped though he heard the sound of the Angel disappearing with his little brother's currently occupied body even as he was dropping to his knees beside his friend. "Morgan!" he immediately took in the blood pouring freely from her shoulder, the blood and fresh bruises on her face and the way her arm was also still partially behind her. "Angel!" he gently eased her arm around and knew with the first touch that it was also dislocated, but what concerned him more right then was her difficulty in breathing.

Looking around quickly, he saw that Cas had unlocked the door once they'd gotten in to allow access to the others but before he could yell to a mystic or anything his attention was pulled to the weakly grasping hand that had grabbed his amulet. "Hey, hey, take it easy. I'm here and I'll deal with him," he promised quickly, easily drawing her into his arms when he winced as he felt a smack to his chest.

"…you…shot…Sam," Morgan mumbled, throat still not wanting to bring air in correctly and refusing the sudden need to hold on to her friend.

"Yeah, he was trying to kill you so I made a choice. Sam blasted me through a wall with rock salt at a much closer range than I was to him just now," Dean returned, rolling his eyes as he lifted her up gently to lay her back on the bed that Jack and Kelly had gotten mostly back upright. "The rock salt won't hurt Sammy anymore than having an angry spirit inside him will," he added, seeing and feeling her shake as shock set in. "I'll deal with this," he promised her.

Grabbing for his arm before Dean could move, Morgan shook her head. "Sammy…Dean, you can't let him hurt…" she struggled with the words when she felt his hands gently cup her face. "My fault that…John hates…not Sam's…stop…"

"Sleep," Dean told her suddenly, seeing her eyes jump to his and knowing she'd fight this if she could but also knowing he controlled the link right then since he was stronger. Before she could work up the urge to resist he lowered his voice to a whisper that only she could hear when he lightly brushed his lips close to her ear. "Sleep, Angel," he whispered firmly, pushing their link in a way that he had only once before and slowly felt her going limp. "I'll get Sam and I'll handle my Dad. He won't hurt either of you again."

Jack was scowling more as he seen this stunt but stayed silent as he watched the young hunter stroke the back of his hand down Morgan's face before turning.

"Heal her!" he ordered without giving a care that his tone wasn't usually accepted by the mystic. "I don't give a care about the wards or anything in the house. Just fix what he did to her while I handle my Father," Dean's eyes were cold as he ran out the bedroom door without listening to the warnings being shouted to him by Bobby Singer.

"You know, I could so easily reduce that kid to smoking ash and not think twice about it," Jack mused, gazing at his now sleeping friend and wondering just when the hell Winchester had learned to use that link to such a degree without knocking himself out. "Remind me again, why I don't?"

Covering his grin with a hand, Kelly coughed. "Two reasons, actually," he admitted, eyeing the door. "First, Dean's top on the boss's 'Do Not Touch or Kill under Penalty of her frying you' list and the second would be Bobby aiming a shotgun at you again."

"Yeah, those would be it," Jack muttered, hoping the older man had removed enough wards so that he could use enough power to heal the woman before Dean really did try that damn knife on him while also hoping the boy knew what he was doing downstairs.

**Downstairs, Panic Room:**

While the unexpected blast from rock salt had both hurt him and took him by surprise, 'John' was still able to maintain control of his son's weakened body. Groaning, he rolled to his feet to find himself in a round room made of pure consecrated iron that was also covered in pure salt with a Devil's Trap in the center of the room that held a bed and little else except a dark haired man in a trench coat. 'John' tried to access Sam's memories to see who this was but the boy's thoughts had gone too far back in the past to be of any use there.

"Dean should know that Devil's Traps won't hold a spirit and nothing can so long as I'm in my son's body," he shook his head, more than a little disappointed in his eldest right then. "I thought I taught him better than to let emotions rule his judgment but then…"

While Castiel had lost a great deal of his powers since siding with the Winchesters, he still had a few and he called on a small portion of that now to force Sam's body back to steps when it went toward the door. "Actually, Dean does know that," he replied. "The room is to keep you from harming anyone else Dean cares for. I am what will keep you inside until he arrives."

'John' again looked at the trench coat wearing man to feel the difference in him and realize that wasn't another hunter or one of the girl's friends but before he could gauge it, the heavy metal door opened to allow his all but seething son to enter. "Dean."

Shutting and locking the door from the inside, Dean made certain that Castiel knew to guard that door under penalty of him letting Bobby find an anti-Angel spell before he met the colder, darker eyes that were looking out of his brother. "Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. My. Brother."

Each word was perfectly stressed as he held those eyes that he had once looked up to with such respect but now could barely stand to think about. "Why're you doing this, Dad?" he asked, setting the shotgun to one side. "You have to know Sam's hurt. That he's too weak for this crap."

"Yes, but your brother was my only option to…"

"To do what? Make your son weaker? To hurt my friend?" Dean demanded, stepping closer to see that his little brother's face was getting more pale as this went on and just hoped he was strong enough to do what he had to both all of them. "You just tried to kill someone who means a lot to both me and Sam, Dad."

'John' frowned deeply in a way that told Dean that he wasn't happy with that comment. "I thought we covered this, Dean," he remarked slowly. "She was just using you and…Dean!" he snapped when the boy lunged, grabbing Sam by the shoulders to push him back against the wall.

"You lied to me!" Dean shouted, all his anger and hurt for the last fifteen years coming out suddenly. "You said she just picked up and left but you lied! You did something to make her leave, Dad. Sam said he heard you and Morgan fighting but it was something else, wasn't it? I've seen her shoulder. You tried to kill her, didn't you, Dad? Didn't you?" he demanded, head snapping back as a fist hit his jaw hard.

"No, not at first," 'John' admitted grimly, rubbing the knuckles absently and not liking the way he suddenly had to force his will harder to keep his younger son dormant as if making him hit his brother had stirred something in Sam. "She got involved in something that she shouldn't have."

Motioning to the Angel to stay back, Dean wiped blood from his mouth but he'd also caught something in his brother's face…a single tear that fell and offered a silent apology. "What? What did you do that she'd get involved in?" he wanted to know, not understanding.

Dean knew he'd left Morgan sleeping upstairs because after the event in town a few days earlier, she'd been too hyper, too afraid for Sam to sleep so he'd pushed their link to put her to sleep. He'd been confident when his Dad, who had arrived earlier, suddenly made him go into town for something that she'd sleep right through it. Nothing should have brought Morgan out of that sleep except…

"Sam," he whispered, a hard sick lump forming in his stomach as his gaze shot up. "You went after Sam, didn't you?" he demanded tightly, voice thick with emotions that he'd buried when his father's spirit refused to answer. "Damn it! You didn't want me out of Bobby's house so you'd have a clear shot at Morgan. You wanted me gone so you could go after Sam! _Sonuvabitch_! You tried to hurt Sam and that's what woke Morgan. That's why she got involved," he realized even before Sam's face pinched but he caught the way his brother's hand had started to shake and he didn't know if Sam was fighting the sudden possession or if his Father's spirit was making it do that. "What the hell did you do to him, Dad?" he demanded in a rage, that only his fear of hurting his brother more kept him from lashing out physically.

"I had told Bobby that I was going to…handle your little friend while you were out because I didn't like the influence she had over you," 'John' began with a sigh. "I wasn't certain what had gone on while you were gone all summer but I wasn't about to let my oldest son get involved with a monster because if I had even thought you had touched her like that I would've been sick. Bobby stormed out before we came to blows but your brother he came at me out of nowhere and just starting screaming that I wasn't going to hurt her or you ever again and…I…slapped him at first. But, Sammy, God, he just wouldn't stay down and finally I remember grabbing him by the shirt and I think he hit the corner of the mantle before I hit him. Then I was shoved away from him and I heard her yelling for Sam to run."

Fury was blinding Dean's normal instincts as he thought to the fear Morgan had showed about Sam remembering that fight. Sam had told him in Oregon that he'd listened to the fight from the top of the stairs and it was after Morgan had left that John had shoved him until Bobby got involved. So either his brother was lying or…or he didn't remember the fight right. 'Damn it, what the hell did she do?' he wondered a second before he heard his name shouted.

"Dean!" Castiel had noticed his friend becoming distracted. He'd also noticed the glint of light off of metal. "Look out!"

Snapping back to attention, Dean's eyes moved to catch sight of the switchblade that he had no idea where his brother or father had gotten the blade to feel the blow to his still sore ribs. "Cas, get Morgan and Bobby out of here!" he yelled, going down to one knee with the blow but grabbing Sam's wrist as he did to twist but didn't dodge the kick that knocked him flat. "Now, Cas!"

"You need help," the Angel clearly was torn when he caught the look in Dean's eyes and reluctantly vanished.

"Sammy! You can fight him!" he called, grunting as he felt the kick in his ribs and memories flashed back to another fight but this time he wasn't sixteen. "Dad's control is only as strong as what you give him!"

'John' shook his head, making a fist and hitting Dean's cheek with enough force to draw blood. "Sammy's gone, Dean," he replied sadly. "Even if I wasn't in here, your brother is as good as brain dead this time. Besides, after costing you Ellen and Jo, aren't you better off without him?" he asked, punching again until his eldest went still and he looked at the switchblade. "I'm sorry, son. I can't let you stop me this time. That girl should've died the summer you were sixteen before she could do so much damage to you because my boy, the son I raised to fight the evil that killed your Mother, would've known better to get involved with a goddamn witch," he replied, gripping the switchblade tightly. "You really should've done what I told you in the hospital, Dean. I know you loved your brother but Sam…he's just not that brother anymore…you'll forgive me one day, boy."

Lifting the knife, 'John' forced Sam's shaking hand to slash the blade toward his still brother's exposed throat…

**TBC**

**A/N: **_I know, I know. Talk about cliffhangers. Will Sam find the strength to fight this possession or is he gone forever? Will Dean survive the next few moments just to lose his brother anyway? Just what did John do that fateful night fifteen years ago and why doesn't Sam remember it all and what else happened? Yep, CH 10, folks._


	10. Chapter 10

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Ten**

**A/N: **_I want to apologize now if I messed up the exorcism part. First time including that in a story. I credit 'John Winchester's Journal by Alex Irvine' as well since that's where it came from. Also, later in the chapter, there may be mention of abuse (and it doesn't involve John for once)._

Sam Winchester's hand slashed the switchblade down at his brother's neck when it stopped, shaking badly as if he was trying to fight the spirit controlling him.

"What?" 'John' spirit frowned inside his younger son's body as he found himself fighting to make the boy's hand complete the move. "Sammy, don't make this harder on yourself," he warned, forcing the knife to move again only to have it jerk back. "Sam! You know deep down how your brother feels now about you. How much of a burden, how much he hates what you've become and what you allowed to…"

A hand suddenly reached up to grab the shaking wrist in a firm grasp as Dean's eyes opened to look up. "Y'see, that's the one thing that you didn't take into account, Dad," he smirked, tightening his fingers on the wrist holding the blade while giving his brother a silent apology before using his left hand to strike out to hit the younger man's jaw to knock him back a few steps. "After all the crap Sammy and I've been through recently, the one damn thing I've made sure that he knows is that no one will ever make me turn on him. No one, not a demon, not a siren, not even the damn spirit of our Father will ever make us turn on one another again," he stated firmly then added in a softer voice while holding eyes that he now thought he could see a struggle building. "We're brothers. We're family and no matter how bad it gets that won't ever change."

Stumbling back after the fist to his jaw, the switchblade dropped out of his fingers and for the first time since waking up, Sam's control clawed briefly to the surface. "De'n?" staring at his brother, it was clear that Sam's mind still wasn't his adult self. It was also clear that he was frightened and confused by this. "I'm…scared…I…"

"I know you are, Sammy and I swear that I'll make this better for you but I need you to keep fighting. I need you to keep reaching for me because big brother's about to fix this," Dean promised him, seeing those hazy eyes going dark again as he pulled himself to his knees while reaching for what he'd stuffed into his back pocket. "Let Sammy go, Dad," he ordered tightly. "You've been gone five years. We're not the kids you left behind…I'm not the same son you left and I'm through letting you run my life or hurt what's mine."

"You're still my son, Dean," 'John' replied not caring for how he now seemed to have to fight for control. "Everything I ever did was so that you'd be alright and…"

Anger soared along with disbelief. "So I'd be alright?" he scoffed, eyeing the panic room as if in search of something and knowing that he'd planned to have Castiel here for this part. "You never treated us as sons unless it suited a damn purpose!" Dean snapped, figuring he had one shot at this so he might as well make it count. "I did everything you ever asked me to! I never complained once about growing up like I did! I made the excuses to Sam growing up! Hell, let's just face it and say _I raised Sam_ because you sure as hell didn't!"

Dean remembered the night Sam left for school and he shouted words very similar to that to their Father. He saw a similar flash of rage cross the face his brother currently didn't have control over as John's spirit felt anger come over him.

"I never said one damn word about you leaving for days or weeks at a time, usually without leaving me enough money to make sure we even had food to eat because the money always went for ammo or supplies or crap!" Dean went on, fingers clenching and unclenching as he rode the wave of emotions that he had spent nearly twenty-seven years bottling up. "Sam would get sick but we couldn't call on Bobby or Pastor Jim because then they would've known you'd been gone longer than you said! Then when you did show back it was usually to pack us up and move to a new town, a new school, a new hunt but did you ever stop to think about the hassles your sons had with that? Of course not because the hunt was always more important and I never said a word about it! I never bitched when I dropped out because all the moving around we did screwed up my grades but I made damn sure Sam's grades stayed up because I might not have been going anywhere but my little brother was not getting stuck in the life you'd put me in!"

He took the fist to his face without a flinch this time as he glared into the eyes of his father and could see the man as he had once. "Yeah, go ahead. Your best resort when you didn't get your way or I did have an opinion was always to think with your damn fists," Dean sneered, blocking the next blow as he shoved back but was still careful not to strike back yet. "Hell, I could've told Bobby or Pastor Jim any number of times about the beatings or the fists but I didn't. Not because you were my Father but because of Sammy. I knew if I'd done that, you would've taken Sam and I was not going to leave him with you alone. I warned you once that you could do whatever the hell you wanted to me but that you would never touch my brother and I was so damn stupid to think that you hadn't!" he went on, backing his brother's body up until it was against a wall. "I could've made the choice to come back that summer but you want to know why I didn't, Dad?"

Dean took a step closer until he and his brother were nearly face-to-face. "I chose to let us stay out because I liked to hear Sam laugh. Yeah, Sammy actually could laugh and play just like a real little boy. I actually liked being with a girl who knew what I was, what I did and didn't judge me and who didn't mind my little brother being around," he laughed softly as he could remember being the one who wanted to dunk Sam in the snow for just a little time alone with Morgan. "Morgan was my friend. She gave so much for me and Sammy that summer but you didn't care about that. You didn't care that she would protect Sam against anything but all you saw was what she could do. You didn't see the fear in her eyes when she used those powers to protect Sam earlier that week. All you wanted was to hurt her when she protected Sam from you! Then you lied to me! You knew I cared for her, you knew I was falling for her and you lied to me! You let me believe that she left for no reason but _you_ were the reason and now you think you can possess Sam just to do it again?" shaking his head, Dean shoved both hands back against Sam's shoulders but grunted as an invisible blow struck him in the chest to push him back a good foot. "No. I'm not letting you hurt either Sam or Morgan this time, Dad. You are not taking anything more away from me that I love…now get the hell out of Sam or I'll make you."

"You'll make me?" 'John' seemed amused at that even though he wasn't amused at his elder son's attitude and lack of respect. "Dean, you can't touch me without hurting Sam and we both know you won't do that so how…"

"I don't have to touch you to hurt you," Dean replied, unfolding the piece of paper he'd been clenching in his fist. "Demons aren't the only ones who can be yanked out of a body, Dad. You should know that."

Sam's face took on a look of mixed confusion and rage before 'John' chuckled. "You could barely speak Latin when I tried to teach you that ritual, son," he remarked, hating to hurt his son but having about enough of his attitude and insubordination. "Besides, I'd fight you and you can't fight me and still use that spell…not to mention what it'll do to your brother. You're all alone, Dean. You know that you need at least two to do a proper exorcism and…argh!"

A wave of power took his off guard, pushing him away from Dean to pin him against the wall. "Dean's not alone and you are coming out of Sam."

Face tight as she concentrated on holding what power she'd regained, Morgan's eyes slid to Dean. "I don't…have the energy to force him out like I normally could and Jack's still working on getting another layer of Bobby's…shields down so he can," she told him, seeing his concern but choosing to ignore it. "If you're going to do it then work fast cause I can't hold him long."

"You…won't…hold me…at…" 'John' was furious with this act and strained hard to break the power holding him since he could tell Morgan was too weak. "I'll…"

"_Regna Terrae, cantata deo, psallite domino, qui vehitur per calus caelos antiques,_" Dean chanted the first part of a ritual of exorcism in perfect Latin while he deliberately stepped between his friend and the body of his brother, green eyes serious as he continued to the second verse. "_Ecce, edit vocem suam, vocem potentem: Akinoscite potentiam dei."_

Teeth clenched against the sudden agony those simple words caused him but he struggled to hold firm. "Don't…do this, Dean," he gritted, letting Sam's head slam back against the wall without care of further harm to his younger son. "Sam…he'll never be what you…or I wanted him to be. Even if he's not a vegetable…after this…if Lucifer corrupts him…he'll destroy the world and you'll die. If I'm inside, he can't lose himself to the Devil and…"

"You think I'll let you keep control of Sam's body?" Dean stared at that one, feeling a soft hand slip into his and he closed his own around it; grateful for the support. "No. You wanted a perfect soldier. I just wanted my little brother to be safe and happy. I failed Sam in that but to let either you or Lucifer control him? No way in hell," he growled. "I'd see us both dead before that happens and I'll see you back in Hell before you hurt me or Sam again now…_Majestas ejus, Et potential ejus…"_

Just before Dean could finish the first part of the ritual, Morgan felt the power slip before she could regain control of the hold that pinned 'John' to the wall and she wasn't able to throw up a shield when he broke the hold and sent Dean flying backwards into her so that they both crashed to the floor.

"I've had enough of the attitude and lip, Dean," he growled, shaking off the effects of the ritual that had just barely pulled him from Sam's form. "I think your time in the Pit softened you too much or else you'd see that what I'm doing if for your own good. First, I'm going to deal with your friend here and then I'll make Sam do what I want and remind you what happens when you don't follow my…what?"

This burst of blue energy was stronger and forced a painful howl even as he was slammed up into the metal fan in the center of the before being pinned to the wall.

"Now that I have actual use to about fifty percent of my abilities, what say we see about dealing with you my way?" Jack MacShayne stepped over the threshold of the panic room with a mild wince but no decrease in power as his blue eyes went cobalt and met the startled gaze with a smile. "I can deal with handling my nosy interfering relatives and I've accepted that my family is a dysfunctional mess but dude, you are so seriously screwed in the head that I'm shocked neither of your sons have become raving nut jobs. Though I have doubts about Dean here," he remarked, walking to the center of the room while making sure both Morgan and Dean hadn't been hurt further.

"If you try to…force me out…you'll kill Sam," 'John' gritted, fighting to be free but not feeling this power shift even a little while the mystic smirked.

"Winchester, I could very easily yank you outta that boy with a tiny thought and very little damage to him but…" Jack scowled a little now and shrugged. "I lost the coin toss."

Not understanding this, 'John' was about to see how much control he still had of the boy when another, stronger, deeper voice chimed in from the doorway and his spirit screamed…

"_Regna Terrae, cantata deo, psallite domino, qui vehitur per calus caelos antiques!"_ Bobby Singer recited firmly from outside the door where his wheelchair sat with Castiel behind him. "_Ecce, edit vocem suam, vocem potentem: Akinoscite potentiam dei! Majestas ejus. Et potential ejus In nubibus!_" he finished the first half and hoped this didn't make things worse when he seen Sam's head slam back again only to release a white mist into the air to slowly form a silhouette. "It ain't gonna be that simple, John," the other hunter growled, quickly reciting the second part of the ritual that would dispel the spirit back to where it had come from before it could seek a new host. "_Timendua est dues e sancto suo, dues Israel; ipse potentiam datet robur populo suo benedictus dues. Gloria Patri,"_ he finished, slamming a fist on the arm of his chair. "Now, get the hell outta my house and leave this kids alone or the next time I fire you up with so much iron laced rock salt it ain't funny!"

Having been too close to an exorcism closing more than once warned Jack what could happen so he threw up shields around both his employer and the Winchester boys. He also hoped the added boost he gave that spell at the end helped to dispel the spirit of John Winchester back to wherever he'd popped up from and keep him there this time.

"Dean! Don't do…" 'John's' spirit screamed as the final part of the exorcism sent the spirit back in a blinding wave of sudden power that even Jack cursed but held his shield while Dean moved to use his body to protect Morgan from anything that might happen but slowly the lights and spirit were gone leaving the panic room silent until…

"Sammy!" once Jack had stopped his power, the younger Winchester's body seemed to slump to the floor as his brother quickly scrambled over to where he laid.

Meeting Morgan's eyes grimly, the mystic could only shrug since he wasn't able to tell the damage just then. "Winchester, let me or Castiel get…" he'd gone to touch the boy's neck to feel for a pulse only to have Dean slap his hand away sharply.

"Don't. Touch. Him." the voice warned Bobby even as Morgan was pulling herself up to give Jack a warning look but she didn't move toward where Dean had carefully gathered his prone, almost lifeless looking little brother into his arms to run a shaking hand over his face. "Sammy, c'mon." he whispered, praying for some response but getting none. "Open your eyes or something…Cas, help me get him upstairs."

Seeing Bobby nod, the Angel stepped into the room to do the one thing that Dean only let him do when it was absolutely necessary and that was use his meager powers to transport both brothers upstairs.

"Oookay, can we say awkward?" Kelly Robinson spoke from the door next to Bobby. "It's been awhile since I've seen Dean like that."

"He just had to start to exorcise his father out of his own brother, stupid," Morgan muttered, wincing as she touched a new bruise on her forehead and was honestly surprised she wasn't more concussed than she figured she was after today's events. "Sam may or may not be more hurt than he was before John pulled this stunt so Dean's allowed to be a little moody."

"Dean Winchester + moody = serious hassles for is usually," Kelly returned, catching her arm when she left the panic room only to lose her balance. "My question is, what do we do?" he asked, knowing she knew what he meant. "If Sam's hurt worse it's because John used him to get to you so…"

Morgan sighed and began to twist the necklace absently. "John's brought up too much and Dean's too raw," she murmured, thinking about the choices she'd need to make but also thinking of what was best for her friends.

"You run from that boy again and I can promise that he will come after you this time," Bobby warned, figuring that was what she was planning while snarling at the mystic who had just beamed them back upstairs. "Hell, just what did happen that night after I went outside, Morgan?" he asked, shaking his head. "Sam and John did fight after you left because that's when I told John to go cool off but…shiiit," he whistled when it hit him. "Something happened that Sam doesn't remember. Something before you and John had those final words."

"Gold star for you," the young woman didn't mean to sound bitter but the memories in this house were beginning to finally break her shields and to say that she was too raw to cope with anymore was an understatement. "Where are they?"

Castiel had stepped from the library to arch an eyebrow much as he had seen Dean do often. "Jack fixed the bedroom so I took them upstairs," he replied. "I believe that Dean has gone into the shower. Sam is…restless."

"Gee, I wonder why," Morgan snorted, heading upstairs slowly to either confront her demons or break her heart…again.

Knocking softly but not hearing a reply, Morgan eased the door open to see that Jack had fixed the room or as well as he could. Sam was laying on his side on the bed farthest from the door which, as she'd come to understand, was the usual place for him since Dean almost always took the bed nearest the door as if protecting Sam from whatever would come in the door.

She felt the angst and emotion the second she stepped into the bedroom but knew that it wasn't from the restlessly sleeping younger man but from behind the closed bathroom door and supposed she should have seen this coming. Morgan just wasn't sure she was strong enough to handle both Winchesters but knowing that Dean needed to get over this before he could deal with Sam.

"You decent or just hiding in there?" she asked softly through the closed door, not bothering to try the knob since she knew it would be locked. "So, how much of what John said toward the end sunk in the cause this reaction?"

There was a long period of silence before the door unlocked but didn't open so she laid a hand on the door. "Sam needs to know you still believe in him, Dean. He needs to know that you don't blame him for Carthage or anything else. You don't, do you?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed when the hesitation lasted a second too long and she offered a silent but still heard opinion to the man behind the door before it was jerked open. "You know why he stayed behind in Birkstown?" she demanded, careful to keep her voice down to a harsh whisper. "He stayed, not just because he still blames himself for you getting hurt that summer, but because he knows you blame him for Ellen and Jo. I was hoping you'd worked it out but I guess not."

"No, I've been a little busy to allow the rest of that grief to settle. Or for me to decide who was at fault for losing two more friends who wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for Sam and me," Dean shot back but realized that he'd once again stuck his foot in his mouth the second he felt the emotions change and he caught the brief flash of hurt in her eyes. "Damn, Morgan…"

"Well, I'd rather you blame me than Sam and I suppose if we think about it this is my fault," Morgan replied, turning away rather than let him see just how easy he could still hurt her. "I mean, if you two would've stayed out of that mess in Birkstown Sam wouldn't have gotten hurt and John wouldn't have had a chance to attach himself to him and…"

"And you'd be dead," Dean put in, reaching for a clean shirt even though he knew Bobby would be griping if he didn't have his shoulder or the new bruises checked over when a thought flashed in his thoughts that he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to see. "_Ex-cuse_ me?" he turned on one heel just in time to grab her arm. "What the hell does that mean?" he demanded, forgetting to keep his voice down and missing the way Sam shifted. "Why wouldn't I care? I thought we'd gotten past this?"

Jerking her arm free, Morgan was too tired after everything that had been happening to bother to push the emotions down anymore. "You thought I'd left you for whatever stupid lies John had filled your head with so you only came after me because you still want answers to why I left," she snapped. "If I hadn't been nailed in New Orleans by that bald arrogant son of a bitch I would've known about you going after the Colt and while I might not have been able to stop everything that happened, I could have stopped Jo from getting nailed by the puppy from Hell."

"How?" he countered, losing interest in his T-shirt when his shoulder pulled to settle on just slipping into a dark green button down one instead. "You're good, babe, but not even you can handle hellhounds."

"You want to know how many of those damn mutts could've gotten closer to you that last week, hotshot?" Morgan tossed back, seeing that Sam had begun to move more in his sleep and realizing he was hearing them. "Dean…"

That comment reminded Dean of something else and he took the opening. "You were at the hospital after the accident," he caught the way she tensed. "Sam was driving the car when that truck hit it. Sam should've been hurt worse than he was. Dad kept you from healing me…but Sam…"

"Sam was hurt, Dean," Morgan sighed, keeping her back to him while picking up on Sam's agitation across the room. "Not as bad as you but bad enough that the doctor's were worried. It didn't take much power to heal him enough to let him wake up because I knew you'd need him but…" she paused to glance back. "John found out I was in with you and freaked. He refused to let me near you and called security…I couldn't get back in to help you, Dean and then all I could do was hope you didn't self destruct."

Knowing the risks she'd taken to come openly into the hospital told Dean more than anything else could even though he still had questions something else bothered him but before he could ask a strangled cry from his brother took them both by surprise. "Sam?"

"Nooooo!" screaming from whatever he had seen in his mind, Sam's eyes popped open but only saw the past and that scared him more. "De!" he shouted for his brother but the use of the nickname he'd called Dean by as a child and the tone warned both that something was very wrong. "De, no! Help…"

"Sam!" Dean went to grab his brother's flailing arm only to find himself shoved away in the younger man's panic. "Sammy!"

Whatever Sam had seen before waking up made him go past panic because after he shoved Dean away he bolted out of the bed before Morgan had even a chance to touch him and was gone. "Bloody hell," she swore, shouting for Jack or Kelly to stop Sam without hurting him as she quickly held out a hand to a stunned Dean. "He's scared, Dean. I couldn't see what he was seeing but whatever it was Sam's scared and he's still set back in the past so…"

"So that means he's seeing one of two things," Dean guessed, not caring for either. "The truck stop outside of town or…Dad."

"Dean, Sam's mind itself did damage control over what happened at the truck stop but if John's intrusion into his mind made him recall that night…" Morgan didn't want the younger man hurt again on top of everything else. "We have to bring him back to now before it's too late."

"I barely brought him back after those hunters attacked him," Dean let her pull him to his feet as a crashing sound was heard from downstairs. "I want to know what happened with you and Dad. I want to know what he did to Sam."

Starting to turn to follow the noise downstairs, she froze at his words and swallowed the next few comments as they wouldn't have been very kind. "This isn't the time for…" she started to argue when Bobby's voice was heard shouting for them.

"What the hell's going on up there?" he demanded from the foot of the stairs. "Sam just tossed that mystic into my wall and high tailed it outta the house!"

"Bloody hell, what good is he if he can't even stop one confused hunter?" Morgan asked herself, running from the room with Dean following closely.

"One of these times, you are going to have to come clean with me," he warned, seeing Castiel fighting a grin while Jack was swearing under his breath in a language that Dean thought sounded like Enochian. "Sam say anything before he tossed Mr. Mystic?" he demanded, seeing that Morgan's eyes were following the trail of overturned furniture that led out the back door to the junkyard.

Jack's eyes were dark but he kept his opinions mostly to himself as Kelly turned to reply. "He had no clue who Jack or I were," he admitted. "Shouted for you and Morgan and screamed at Jack to keep his damn hands off of him before he freaked, sent Jack into the table and bolted outside."

"He's seeing trucks, he sees shadows that he thinks are threats and he sees himself as he was at twelve when he was almost…" Jack shut up a second before a sharp mental slap rapped him hard in the head.

That did it for Bobby. He'd been putting up with this crap for fifteen years and he'd finally had enough of it as he slammed his wheelchair in front of the two people he knew could answer him. "Alright, I let you put me off the day you three got here that summer because Sam looked white as a sheet and Morgan was barely on her feet. Now I want one of you to tell me what in the hell happened that day!" he snapped in the tone that Dean knew meant the older man wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"We'd stopped at the truck stop outside of town the day we were coming here because Sam had been whining that he was hungry. I knew if he showed up here in that mood you'd more than likely kick us out in an hour," Dean began, glancing over at Morgan to see that she was chewing her bottom lip in a nervous gesture. "Morgan and I were bickering because she didn't want to be around if Dad showed up so when Sam needed to go to the bathroom, he slipped out before either of us realized it until Morg looked to see he was gone. That's when things went bad…"

**Flashback, outside Sioux Falls, SD, 1995:**

"No."

"So, you're just going to drop us with Bobby and take off?" Dean's eyebrow quirked up in the way he knew annoyed his friend before shooting an annoyed look across from him at his brother. "Did you pick up a rash or some fire ants get in your jeans or what, Sammy?" he demanded.

Sam threw what his brother had taken to calling his bitch-face at Dean but still squirmed on the bench seat of the truck stop's tiny diner where he sat next to Morgan. "No. I have to use the restroom," he shot back, only slightly less annoyed than he had been before he'd gotten Dean and Morgan to stop for lunch instead of going on to Bobby Singer's like they'd planned. "Can I go while you and Morg keep bickering?"

"No," two voices in sync replied instantly as Dean eyes took a look around at the diner's other customer's which were mostly locals, truckers and a few tourists passing thru. "It's outside, around the building and too far out of my sight," Dean replied, more on edge in the past few hours than he'd been all summer. "Give me a minute to sort this out and we'll go."

"There's nothing to sort out," Morgan shot back, leaning her elbows on the table. "Bobby I can deal with but I don't want to be around when your Dad shows up so it's just as well if I take off."

Dean leaned up so that he could reach across the greasy feeling table to wrap a strand of her hair around his finger. "Angel, I told Bobby not to call Dad right away so you can stay for a couple days at least," he replied with the smile that had never failed to win him what he wanted. "That way…we can drop Sam with Bobby and I can show you around the junkyard."

"A tour of a junkyard?" Morgan grinned. "That sounds kind of…boring, Dean."

"Not my tour," he promised, leaning closer as he planned how to score a kiss in public while his little brother…remembering how antsy Sam had been Dean was shifting his eyes to find his brother even when he felt Morgan tense and pull away.

Looking in the booth next to her to only find Sam's jacket, Morgan swore under her breath. "Sam?" she called, focusing on the odd sense of urgency she was feeling when she met Dean's eyes across the table to see his worry. "How'd he…"

"Probably slipped out from under the table while we were…discussing things," Dean swore he was going to break his brother's legs for this stunt when their waitress came up just then to lay the check down.

"Hey," she began, nibbling the tip of her pencil while shooting a look back to the kitchen where the diner's owner worked. "The little boy who came in with you?"

Both teenagers were instantly paying attention to the twenty-something waitress while Morgan felt a mild panic building that she couldn't place. "That's my brother," Dean replied, struggling not to snap in his impatience. "Did you see which way he went or…"

"He went to use the restroom since he asked me for the key but…" she paused to look back again before leaning in closer as if taking an order but dropped her voice. "Look, I don't want to cause trouble since if Larry finds out I said anything I could lose my job but…there've been complaints about a couple truckers who are my boss's buddies and…I just don't want to see such a cute kid hurt…y'know?"

It took only a second for Dean to catch on and his next few words could've burned the ears off a sailor as he jumped from the seat. "_Sonuvabitch_!" he swore, feeling Morgan's hand on his arm. "Check the truck lot while I check the restroom," he told her, turning in mid-run to yell a warning he knew was useless. "Shout for me if you need me!"

"Sammy!" Morgan shouted as she ran toward the separate lot the diner/truck stop used for semi parking, she was furious with herself. She'd managed to keep Sam safe and reasonably in one piece for an entire summer only to lose him less than thirty minutes from their final destination. "Sam! Answer me or Dean's gonna kill us both!"

Stepping onto the lot, she noticed that most of the trucks were parked pretty close to the buildings but two of them seemed to have parked off back a good ways where it was harder to see…or hear.

Picking up her pace, Morgan wished she hadn't left both knife and pistol in the trunk of the car when she heard a muffled shout and then… "Dean!" and she took off running while giving a silent shout to the elder Winchester.

"Sam?" rounding a corner of one truck, Morgan immediately didn't like how the two trucks seemed to cut the lot off which would make it tight if things went bad. "Sam!" she snapped the boy's name the second she came around to see Sam struggling as a burly older man in his mid-thirties tried to manhandle the smaller boy toward one of the trucks.

Freezing at the unexpected voice, the trucker nearly lost his grip on the struggling boy as he whirled to face the teenage girl with a smirk. "Well, well, well," he eyed her curiously as gave a quick cuff to the back of the head of his current prize. "Not my usual type, sweetheart but give me a minute and we'll talk about it."

Feeling Sam's fear along with the thoughts of the man made Morgan's stomach flip before anger overrode that. "Oh, you're right. I'm nowhere near your type, you bloody bastard," she agreed, voice tight and it was quickly losing its accent as she moved a hand slowly to feel the power build. "You're gonna let him and you might live to walk away."

Not used to having this much trouble, the trucker didn't care for the girl's tone or by the way she didn't appear frightened. Setting the boy down on his feet but wrapping a hand around the hood of his sweatshirt to keep him still, he sneered. "Is that so?" he replied with a cocky laugh, speaking over her shoulder. "Charlie, looks like this one has a big sister who doesn't like us having some fun."

"I think that can be handled," a gruff, more than slightly slurred voice spoke from about a foot or so behind Morgan but the sound of a knife being pulled out of the too-tight sheath could still be heard. "Pretty girl just might come in handy…afterwards."

Seeing Sam's eyes were wide with shock, Morgan offered a small smile of reassurance even though she didn't want to have to use her powers in front of the boy. "No, I'm not his big sister," she admitted calmly, smiling at the sound of a gun being cocked. "He does, however, have a really pissed off big brother who you're about to meet."

"Get your filthy hands off my brother," Dean's voice had dropped lower in both concern and fury after he'd come around the truck, pulling the pistol he'd grabbed from the trunk of the car that he'd driven from Nevada. "Get Sam and clear out, Morgan," he told her, ducking the knife slash from the drunken trucker easily.

"I ain't lettin' this one go," the trucker holding Sam growled, stepping back when the hand that was holding the boy suddenly got red hot and he had to release his grip with a shout of pain that doubled when Sam suddenly feeling his chance for escape whirled to kick the man's leg as hard as he could.

Blue eyes never left the trucker while she wrapped her left arm around the frightened boy when he ran to her. "Run to the car and lock the doors until Dean and I get there, Sammy," she whispered in his ear, feeling the tears on his face. "Run, Sam!"

Making sure that Sam was clear and that Dean was handling the knife wielding trucker, Morgan's gaze turned to the one who had touched Sam. Even without using her powers much, she could see this one's thoughts and could tell that Sam wasn't the first child these two had abducted at similar truck stops…but he would be the last.

"You think too loud, mister," she remarked quietly, moving her fingers a little before a soft blue light shot from them to slam the trucker into his own truck and then did it again. "You and your mate, you get your kicks from taking innocent little kids like Sammy to hurt and then sell 'em well…touching him was your last damn mistake," she promised, fisting the hand that controlled the light to make it burn brighter as the trucker showed his first signs of panic.

Dean, meanwhile, had easily danced around the sloppy knife thrusts of the other man until he looked up to see what Morgan was doing and he swore under his breath. "Gotta go, tubby," he told the drunken child abductor when he grabbed the hand holding the knife to slam it over his knee and slam the guy's head into the pavement a couple times until he was sure he was out cold before taking two quick steps to grab Morgan's wrist in a gentle hold. "That's enough, Angel," he told her quietly.

Gaze dropping to the now sobbing trucker on the ground who was trying to protect himself, Dean caught the tiny burns on his arms along with the massive bruises that came from being slammed into the truck repeatedly.

"He hurt Sammy, Dean," he heard her whisper absently, the normal soft voice he loved to hear as she read to Sam at night devoid of its normal accent. "He was going to hurt him and then…"

Feeling the edge of her powers through his fingers, Dean realized how close his friend was to the edge and quickly turned her to face him; placing his hands on her face, he waited until her eyes had slowly lifted to his. "I know, babe," he replied, keeping his tone more level than he really felt like Dean knew he had to bring her powers and her anger under control. "No one hurts Sammy, Morgan. Not while we're with him," he stopped as something occurred to him.

The entire summer it had just been the three of them even though the housekeeper and other staff were in the cabin, it was always just the three of them and it was just Dean and Morgan that Sam had come to depend on.

Dean knew that Sam had gotten used to having Morgan with them and that it was only once he'd learned that she'd be leaving that his mood had gone surly. Just like Morgan had gotten used to taking care of Sam so that Dean wouldn't always have to as he recalled just leaning in the door to his brother's room to watch them as Morgan would either read something Sam wanted to hear or he'd ask her questions about anything because he knew she'd answer him.

"No one hurts _our _Sammy," he spoke the words softly but knew the second her eyes locked on his more clearly that he'd said the right thing while brushing the tears that had escaped her eyes away. "Go stay with Sammy, Morgan," Dean murmured in her ear, nudging her back towards the car. "I'll be right there."

Waiting until he was certain she was out of earshot, Dean knelt next to the trucker who had grabbed his brother to yank his head up while jamming the barrel of the .45 under his chin with pointed determination. "Listen to me very closely," he began in a low, cold voice, which was more threatening than the pistol he carried. "You're gonna pick your buddy up and you're going to live Sioux Falls. You are going to forget you ever saw us and you're gonna forget the fact that my girl could've ripped your lungs from your chest probably," he told the man coldly, jabbing the barrel again to make his point. "If you're smart, you won't ever think of touching another kid because I can promise you that while you're gonna forget us, I will never forget you. You touched one of the two people in my life that will get you killed for threatening and you'll walking away because I won't let her lose that much of herself by killing you. However, the next time I see you…I will end you."

Standing up, Dean considered for a brief moment before kicking the man hard below the belt. "That's for putting your goddamn hands on my little brother," he growled, walking away and slipping the gun back under his jacket when he spotted Morgan leaning against a nearby truck. Face pale he was about to call out when he saw her fall and only a mad dash had him managing to catch her in his arms before she hit cement.

"Shit! Morgan, what happened?" he demanded, noticing how cold her hands were again and swearing under his breath. Dean had known that the girl hadn't regained full strength yet because every time he turned around she was using them a little even if it was to just keep Sam from breaking any bones when he wanted to learn to ski. "It's okay. Let's go back to Sammy and then we're going to Bobby's and…" he prayed he could keep them together if just for a little while longer.

Scooping Morgan up in his arms without a fight told Dean how bad she was feeling since she normally wouldn't allow herself to be carried or appear sick in front of his brother, now she laid her head against his shoulder but he felt the movements of her fingers on his arm and nodded. "I'll make sure Sam's fine," he promised, seeing the black four door 1995 Chevy they'd driven and seeing his brother's head peeking from the back window just as he could also see the waitress and diner owner watching from the diner window and he fought his basic urge to have a talk with the man. "Sammy!"

The back door opened so he could place his friend on the seat before reaching over to pull Sam hard against his chest, a little surprised when his brother didn't resist but tentatively held on before Sam's arms moved to hold on fully. "You okay, little brother?" he asked after a couple moments, reaching a hand up to feel for broken bones but stopped when the younger boy jerked back. "It's okay. We're going to Bobby's and it'll be fine."

"Are…you mad, Dean?" Sam asked, knowing his brother's body language and could tell he was. "I'm…sorry that…did Morgan get hurt?"

Sighing as he eased his hold on Sam so the boy could scoot back but didn't miss the way his fingers slipped into Morgan's hand to hold. "No, she…she just used too much strength and went to sleep," he replied, moving a hand slowly to brush over his brother's hair. "I'm not mad, Sammy but this is way I don't want you running off on me. If Morg and I hadn't been here you could've been hurt and…"

"Dad'll hurt you again if he…" Sam's voice rose in panic at that thought at he grabbed for Dean as he started to slip out to get in the front seat. "Please, don't tell Dad. I don't want him to hurt you or Morgan or…"

"Dad's not going to hurt anyone, Sam," Dean knew he couldn't be sure of that but he'd make certain their Father didn't hurt either Sam or Morgan. "Now, you stay with her while I drive to Bobby's and get him started."

Sam nodded and closed his eyes while holding Morgan's hand in his smaller one. "Dean'll make it better, Morgan," he whispered, not seeing the pain in his brother's eyes as they glanced into the back thru the rearview mirror. "Dean always makes it better for me and he'll make sure Dad doesn't make you leave us cause Dean needs you."

Not showing how much those whispered words broke him, Dean's fingers tightened on the wheel even as he heard his cell phone ring and guessing it was a grumpy salvage yard owner before he reached for it. "Yeah, Bobby…"

**Present Day:**

Silence rang through the Singer house as the older hunter stared between Dean Winchester and Morgan Harrison before clearing his throat. "Hey, magic boy! Hand me that heavy skillet on the stove!" he yelled to Jack MacShayne before narrowing a gaze at Dean. "So I can hit this damn stubborn idjit in the head! Boy, didn't you think I should've known this happened?"

"No, because all Sam wanted to do was forget it and Morgan and I were there the next few days while he was so jumpy," Dean shot back when Morgan nudged his arm to remind him what had brought this up in the first place. "Can you lecture me later?" he asked sourly with an eye roll that made Bobby remember where Sam had learned it. "After I go find my little brother in that maze of cars you call a junkyard and I find out just what this one isn't telling me?"

Morgan shot him a scowl but didn't refuse the conversation either which shocked him. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you that you won't be any happier after we talk about this than you are now," she muttered, not liking the way Jack had suddenly frowned.

"I'd be less happy if you skipped out on me again like you were planning to earlier," Dean remarked, grinning smartly at her look before he snatched her hand to tug her closer like he used to do. "You keep forgetting, that link gets stronger the longer we're together so even the tiniest thought now is like a shout to me."

"Jack, block that thing for me," she snapped, taking a step toward the door when the mystic swore. "That's your you have something to tell me that you know will get you killed sound. What?"

Jack turned to stare at Bobby. "You safeguarded this house with every sigal, sign, spell, and whatever else you could and you neglected to put the most basic protective spell on the damn grounds?" he groaned. "Something's here but I can't tell what yet."

Exchanging looks, Dean offered his own opinion on that before hitting the yard at a run but caught a shotgun in one hand. "You go that way," he told Morgan, explaining. "That path will lead to the usual spot that Sam always ran to that summer. I'll circle around the other way in case he went the longer way to it."

"Be careful," Morgan urged him, feeling his smirk more than seeing it this time before she slipped into the pathways of junk cars that made up Bobby's salvage yard.

"You too," Dean whispered, taking a long moment to gather his still rolling thoughts before taking the other path that hunter's instinct had made him choose. He still couldn't quite grip the idea that Jo and Ellen had died on his watch and while he blamed himself more than Sam, he also wasn't certain how to convince his brother of that while Sam was so filled with guilt from things done so long ago.

Dean also knew he had another problem. His brother had been too sensitive to the emotions between himself and Morgan so until they came to grips with that one little sticking point of the events between herself and his father, then Sam would still be upset. Especially if he did remember something he shouldn't and Dean wondered just what had occurred that Morgan hadn't wanted Sam to see or remember.

"Damn it, Sammy," he muttered, hating the times when he'd have to hunt his brother down in this maze and marveling at how easy Sam could always find him and Morgan in it. "Kid has bat senses," he decided, stepping around a rusted out junk of an old Cadillac just as a wave of strong power took him by surprise to hurl him into the rusty car's sharp hood and he felt blood flow from his back even as a hand gripped his throat.

"Hello again, Dean," the low voice greeted him as if he were an old friend and not the older brother who was keeping him from claiming his true vessel. "We seriously need to talk about Sam, don't you think?" Lucifer asked, waiting just another moment before releasing the grip he had on the hunter's throat to allow him to fall to the ground.

Gasping for air, Dean glared up at the sickly looking form of Lucifer in his current vessel and noticed that Nick's body didn't seem to have recovered too well from Birkstown. "You can't find us just like the Angel Patrol can't," he argued hoarsely. "Sam ain't been dreaming, I know I'm not dreaming so…"

"No, it's not easy for me to locate Sam these days except through his dreams which he's taken to not sleeping," Lucifer admitted, kneeling down so he'd be more at eye level with Dean. "Locking onto to my erstwhile nephew on the other hand, was a little easier and since I assumed Jack would be checking on his employer took the chance that he'd be with you and Sam."

Looking at the shotgun, which laid too far away to do him any good, Dean slumped back on an elbow. "Fine, but killing isn't going to do anything but piss Morg off and something tells me that wouldn't be a good thing?"

"Imagine my surprise to learn who my nephew worked with and that she means something to my vessel." Lucifer sighed, tracing a finger in the dirt before lifting his eyes to meet Dean's. "I don't want to kill you, Dean. I told you the truth in that future…oh, yes. I know what Zachariah did and I have those memories. Sam has those memories but only as nightmares that he hasn't shared with you since he feels you think he's a freak as it was. I like you, Dean. I respect what you're trying to do for your little brother. I respect that you're willing to risk your own life and that of someone you truly love to alter your and Sam's destinies," he nodded then shrugged. "It won't work because in the end Michael and I will meet and either you or Sam will die but…"

"Not going to happen," Dean gritted, feeling the same sick fear as he had in that future but pushing it back. "Sam will never give in to you and you may as well kill me know because I will find a way to kill you before you so much as lay a finger on my brother."

Pursing his lips, Lucifer considered the elder brother for a long moment. "You'll probably try but in the end it won't matter if Sam's mind isn't healed because…even though I'd like to say otherwise, Jack's brother Ethan was correct. I can't claim Sam so long as his mind is this damaged which is why I've come to you."

"Come again?" Dean wasn't sure what was going on and he prayed that Morgan found Sam and got him back to the house safely.

Chuckling at his disbelief, Lucifer looked down at the dirt to see the symbols he'd been drawing. "I know you don't believe me, Dean, but I'm not a bad person like the stories have made me out to be. I'm just a son who wanted to do right by his Father. You'd understand all about that, wouldn't you?" he caught the dangerous glint in the boy's eyes and smiled. "John lied to you about a great deal of things, Dean. You know that now, just like you know that whatever it was that happened in that house fifteen years ago is still hurting Sam and just like you know that if you force a confrontation with Morgan over it, you could very well lose her again," he frowned slightly as if considering. "Truth be told, it would be better for me if that girl wasn't a part of this since she…is a wild card that could change things too much but for Sam's sake, she's needed."

"So, to help Sam I need to know what happened with him and Dad that made Morgan get involved but to find out I could hurt what little trust she's regained in me and vice versa," Dean shook his head, lost at what the Devil was getting at. "So, why do you care?"

"I care because the two of you are what's important to Sam and since I need him healthy and alive, you and the girl have become important to me as well," Lucifer explained, a sad smile playing at his lips. "Sam lives and breathes his guilt and while he has plenty of it for many things, the pieces that tear at him the most is that summer, feeling like he let you down, and of course knowing that you blame him for the deaths of your friends in Carthage. Dean, I was in your brother's dreams more than once. Sam's whole life is an open book to me and I think it's time you found out just how much of that last night you don't know and why your little friend made Sam forget the worst parts in order to protect you both."

Dean's head jerked up at that, starting to move but felt his body being held in place by a powerful grasp as Lucifer leaned closer to lightly touch his forehead with two fingers. Dean felt his mind explode in a painful crash of sounds, smells, while a white light so bright it burned both his eyes and his mind caused a scream to escape his lips before he slipped into it…

"Sorry, Dean but unlike Castiel, no one said my powers wouldn't hurt with something like this," Lucifer remarked, standing with a final glance at the now unconscious hunter to turn an eye to the rather petite looking brown-haired woman who was standing behind him. "Take a couple of my pets and find my vessel, Meg," he ordered, lifting a brow at her smile. "You are to only observe him. Do not touch because he won't remember you and do not allow the dogs to touch him but if you come across the Harrison girl? Her, you can kill."

"Of course, Father," Meg smiled before whistling for the snarling hounds of hell that only she could see. "Go find Sammy, boys," she released the leashes she held and followed with a soft whistle playing on her lips while hoping before this day was over her Father allowed her to kill Dean Winchester or his whore for all the trouble they'd caused them.

Consciousness fighting to stop the freefall, a part of Dean still knew the danger both his brother and friend were in but couldn't fight the screaming pain or blinding light as his last thoughts passed over him before he the darkness hit. 'Sammy…Morgan…can't…fail again…'

**TBC**

**A/N: **_What will Dean see when he wakes up and he will recover in time to save both his friend and brother? Will Meg get her wish to see Dean dead? Can Sam's mind recover from all he's been put through? And after learning the truth he has so desperately wanted to know, can Dean finally handle the truth or will it cause a rift between him and Morgan that nothing will fix…not even their combined concern for Sam? CH 11, yes, 1 final chapter (I hope) and all the questions will be answered._


	11. Chapter 11

**Memories & Demons**

**Chapter Eleven**

**A/N: ****Warnings: **_Okay, to be fair, even though it's not graphic further into the flashback abuse is shown. Like I said, it's not graphic but I want to put the warning out since I never really know what to label I thought to be safe. Thanks for reading and sorry for the wait on this update._

**Flashback: Singer Salvage Yard, 1995:**

"Sam! Go tell that brother of yours that if I catch him trying to kiss that girl one more time I'm takin' my heaviest skillet to the back of his skull!" Bobby Singer shouted out his door to the boy he knew was sprawled on his porch reading. "Tell him I said those rules I laid down apply to outside the damn house too!"

Poking his head up from the book he'd been reading, Sam grinned. He figured he could've asked Bobby why bother telling Dean that now when he'd been putting up with it the entire summer. "Okay but he won't like it," he called out, jumping to his feet to run out deeper into the junkyard where he knew his brother was supposed to be working on a car for Bobby.

Sam could find his brother and Morgan anywhere on Bobby's lot, which he loved doing since he knew it annoyed Dean to no end. Since arriving at Bobby's four days earlier, Sam had been wary at first since he was afraid of Bobby's reaction to the event at the truck stop but neither Dean nor Morgan had mentioned what had really happened. Dean had just made some excuse and while the hunter clearly hadn't bought it, he'd let it go…for now.

Taking a short cut to the section of the yard that Bobby had told the older Winchester to go check out a used Mustang that he might be selling. Sam knew Dean hadn't liked a lot of the rules that Bobby had laid out and he'd thought for a while that Dean would decide against staying with their friend but again it had been Morgan who had calmed Dean down.

Since the cabin, Sam knew that Dean had gotten used to it just being the three of them mainly and he was used to flirting or kissing Morgan when he'd choose, or try to kiss her since Sam had quickly realized that their friend normally wouldn't let his brother kiss her if Sam was in the room.

The no kissing rule had been one thing Dean had balked on but Sam knew the biggest rule tossed down had been the hardest since Dean and Morgan normally had the nights to themselves after Sam allowed himself to be put to bed. Unknown to either of them, Sam had often snuck out to watch his normally cocky, self-assured, Gods gift to women older brother just sitting on the sofa with Morgan curled in his arms, talking.

Since arriving at Bobby's though, it was hard for the two teens to get those moments since the older hunter decided both needed a chaperone so whenever Dean was in the yard, it was a safe bet that Morgan could be found out there as well. Even though Sam knew his friend would be leaving soon and that was something else he knew upset his brother.

Hearing voices, Sam slowed down to eye his path before grinning as he decided on a less direct way to them when he dropped to his belly to begin to crawl under the cars.

"Damn. How can the summer in the mountains be cool yet I'm burning up out here?" Dean complained, wiping sweat off his forehead with a bare arm.

"You spent time here for how long and you forgot what the summers in South Dakota are like?" Morgan teased him from where she sat on the hood of a nearby junk. "Sixteen and your memory's going, hotshot."

Laying the socket he'd been using aside to slide a look over to his friend before letting his gaze examine the pink tank top and shorts she wore. "You're the one who decided we should come to Bobby's in August, babe," he reminded her sourly but smiled a little when she laughed.

"No, I chose Bobby's because it was neutral," she returned, not wanting to bring up the fact that she needed to leave soon because she enjoyed watching Dean work while he was relaxed…especially since he'd ditched his T-shirt over the summer heat.

"Neutral?" he laughed fully, turning to lean against the Mustang to look at her. "Clearly you have not seen my Dad and Bobby go at it," he replied, wiping his hands on his t-shirt before stepping over to sit beside her after taking the water bottle she offered gratefully. "Thanks."

Drinking deeply, Dean took the time to look at Morgan more closely. It hadn't taken him long to realize that she didn't care for the heat or humidity but she coped for their sakes even though he knew she was worried about being here. He also could tell that she wasn't sleeping right or recovering from using her powers the other day.

Dean had managed to avoid Bobby's questions on why Sam was so jumpy and why Morgan had been unconscious when they'd first arrived. Then the rules he set made it hard for the sixteen year old to see that his friend was sleeping at night or that she wasn't pushing herself too hard, which he knew she was since she was the one mainly handling how jumpy Sam still was.

"So, since it's just you and me how about I give you that tour I promised?" he suggested with a smile that he always knew could make her smile back. "You've never had a junkyard tour like this."

"Yeah, I just bet," Morgan returned, easily reading through that suggestion but not feeling like calling him on it yet. "Wouldn't that also go against every single one of Bobby's rules, Dean?" she asked innocently, ticking them off on her fingers. "His no kissing, no cuddling, no touching when Sam's present or better yet don't think of touching her at all rules?"

Still not happy about those, Dean smirked and moved closer so that he could trace what appeared to be little lines on her palm with his finger. "No, because the old man outsmarted himself this time," he replied, feeling the girl lean into his shoulder. "Bobby said I couldn't kiss or touch you _in his house. _The junkyard isn't his house so that means…" he grinned as he slid his hand up to cup her cheek before he moved in to…

"Dean! Bobby said that if he caught you trying to kiss Morgan he'd hit you with his skillet because the yard is included in those rules he gave you."

Startled by the unexpected shout Dean nearly fell off the car as Morgan automatically moved at Sam's voice. "What? Do you have sonar radar or something, Sammy?" he demanded, giving his giggling little brother a not so subtle scowl as he looked down to see his brother's dirty face sticking out from under the car they were sitting on. "How'd you even find us?"

"I know your habits, Dean," Sam grinned, sliding out further from the car only to be pulled out quickly as Dean grabbed him. "Don't kill the messenger," he laughed, not seeing any real anger on his brother's face so he relaxed when he was set on his feet. "Besides, don't you two do that enough when Bobby goes to bed?"

Morgan groaned and slapped Dean's head lightly with an open hand. "I thought you said he was asleep," she hissed, a sudden feeling of dread filling her stomach for some reason but as Dean went to lunge for his backpeddling little brother, she chose to ignore it. "From now on, I check on Sam."

"No way, babe," Dean argued, deciding it was too hot to work on the car right then and also not liking the way Morgan's hands had started to tremble. "You check on Sam, he distracts you too much and I swear he does it on purpose…the nosy little brat."

Giving an eye roll that he knew annoyed both teens Sam shrugged innocently. "Bobby says I'm Morgan's favorite cause she spoils me," he teased, ducking Dean's lazy grab but missed the look his brother and Morgan shared and couldn't duck or move when she suddenly shifted to wrap a loose arm around his neck and messed his hair up. "Hey!"

"Of course you're my favorite, Sammy," she told him with a smile but her eyes had lifted to meet Dean's. "Your big brother just has a few other attributes that make me keep him around."

"Not that she gets to see those when I can't lose you," Dean growled in a teasing tone, grabbing his t-shirt before giving Sam a gentle shove. "Let's go back and get you cleaned up before Bobby thinks I threw you in the mud again," he decided, groaning. "Not that I don't know who gave him that idea."

Sam whirled to walk backwards while talking. "Hey! He asked me how I got muddy and I told him I was out in the yard with you and he just jumped. I didn't say that you pushed me into the mud or anything," his pretend innocence might've worked if he hadn't laughed at the same time.

"Be in the house, upstairs and in the shower before I hit the house, little brother or I will toss you in the mud," Dean promised, going to grab for him when Sam took off laughing toward the house. "He'll have me grounded within the next two days," he decided, feeling her hand slip into his for the walk back. "How much longer?"

If Morgan had any question about what he meant, she didn't let on. Instead, she let him slide an arm around her and sighed. "Probably by the weekend," she replied softly, feeling his grip tighten. "Dean, you know I can't stay once your Dad gets here. You knew that when we left the cabin."

"Yeah but that don't mean I have to like it," Dean muttered, knowing that she didn't want to leave and not understanding why his Dad's arrival should effect things. "Dad knows you're my friend and he's been nice to you so…"

Not intending to tell him the full truth about why she wanted to avoid John Winchester, Morgan had begun to offer some excuse when they both heard the loud rumble of a car and while Dean's body just went rigid, she felt cold. Time had just run out.

"Dad," Dean said the name almost like a curse when they both thought a similar thought at the same time. "Sam."

Breaking into a run to find the younger Winchester, both Dean and Morgan shared a relieved look when they cleared the lot to find Sam near the corner of the house watching the shiny black 1967 Chevy Impala come to a stop in front of the house.

Whirling, the boy's eyes showed his fear even more than the tight grip he latched onto his brother's arm with. "Dad's here," he whispered, hazel eyes going between Dean and Morgan rapidly. "Why? You said he wouldn't come this soon. Dean, you said…"

Dropping to his knees in front of the clearly frightened boy, Dean laid his hands on his brother's shaking shoulders to make him meet his eyes. "Sammy, it's alright. So Dad's…early," he wasn't any happier with that than his brother was but in his case, he had to hide it better. Looking up, he met blue eyes and was surprised to see both concern and a little fear. "Take Sam in the back way and help him get cleaned up while I handle this."

"Dean…" Morgan hesitated, knowing how dangerous this was for the boys that their Father had arrived when she was still here but not seeing a way out of it now and not wanting to leave Sam alone when he was clearly still afraid of John. "Don't do…"

Standing with his usual cocky grin that seemed forced this time, he eased his brother back to her before lightly brushing his lips over her cheek while whispering something in her ear but when he straightened, he was calm when he spoke. "Go inside. He won't do anything to me with Bobby here," he promised, seeing her doubts but then Morgan spoke to Sam as she took his hand and headed for the back door.

Alone now, Dean allowed his hands to shake at the idea of seeing his Father again for the first time in nearly three months. Pulling his t-shirt on, he took a deep breath before he headed around the house in time to hear Bobby yelling.

"Damn it, John! I said two weeks!" he groused, clearly not happy with the man's early arrival. "This ain't two weeks! What the hell you'd you? Dump that Wendigo hunt on Caleb?"

John got out of the Impala with a weary sigh. He hadn't been looking forward to the confrontation with Bobby even though he knew it was bound to happen. "We dealt with that before I decided to swing by here," he replied, groaning from the cracked rib he'd gotten on that last hunt. "So…they here or what?"

Bobby was not happy. He had wanted to give Dean and Sam more time to adjust to the idea of going back with John. The fact that Morgan was still here also was a major issue since he knew how John would probably react to the girl and how Dean would handle that. He was about to make up a lie that he'd sent the boys to Jim's for a couple days when it was taken out of his hands and he could only pray.

"Hey," Dean's voice was level despite the increased heart rate as he came around the house to stop just at the edge of the porch, being careful to keep a safe distance between himself and his Dad until he judged things.

"Hey," John returned, taking his time to close the driver's door to the Impala in order to look his oldest son over closely.

He'd expected in the three months that he'd been away from his sons that all the discipline he'd driven into Dean about constant training and exercise had been tossed out in favor of junk food and lazing about but after looking the boy over with a critical ex-Marine eye he was forced to admit to himself that Dean looked good. Hell, if John were to be honest, he'd have to say that his son actually looked better than he had before John had dropped them off with Jim. Not that he'd ever admit that to the boy though.

"So, enjoy your vacation?" he asked mildly, still steaming about that but a mild look from Bobby warned him to let it go.

Having known his Father all his life, Dean wasn't fooled by the casual words or his father's relaxed posture. John was still pissed and that warned Dean to watch his step and to keep the man away from Sam and Morgan. "Oh, y'know, I guess it was pretty good," he shrugged, moving closer but keeping his attention fixed between the front door and John. "Salted and burned a six-foot snowman, took target practice on what I swear was a Yeti or something and very nearly broke my neck when I tried to ski. All and all, it was fine. How're you, Dad?" he finally made himself ask after coming to a stop in front of the man.

"Caleb drove me nuts so that should give you a clue," John replied, noticing the way Dean held himself as if braced for an attack and he sighed when he started to move a hand towards him that both the boy and Bobby tensed. "Dean…I'm…sorry for what happened that day back in the motel," he declared. "I was tired and I just lost my temper but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Shifting his eyes to see Bobby's face, Dean merely nodded. He wasn't stupid enough to trust the sudden turn and would just keep his eyes open and be more watchful. "Yeah, whatever, Dad," he shrugged, fighting the urge not to jerk back when his father's hand clapped him on the same shoulder that he'd dislocated.

"Well, you're here so you may as well come on in," Bobby grumbled, catching the teenager's eyes for just a second to see both caution and resignation. "Where's your brother?" he suddenly remembered he'd sent the smaller Winchester out to find his brother and Morgan.

"Oh, he's in the shower," Dean replied, making sure he kept his innocent look even as Bobby turned to pin him with a hard stare. "What?"

"You didn't toss that boy in the damn mud again, did you?" the hunter demanded, swearing the two younger Winchesters would be the death of him before their Daddy was.

Throwing his hands up in defense at the question, Dean sounded indignant. "No!" he replied firmly, coughing as he added. "He just sort of crawled under the cars to scare the shit outta me and got filthy so…" he stopped himself on instinct from saying his friend's name but he still caught the way his father's back tensed and he stepped in front of the stairs leading upstairs. "No, Dad."

Bobby went on alert the second his seen this act from Dean because he knew John wasn't used to his eldest having an opinion that differed from his. Slowing, he reached for the always loaded and pumped shotgun he kept behind the front door just in case John reacted stupidly.

"You're not going to let see your brother, are you Dean?" John asked in a measured tone, not liking this attitude from Dean.

Sensing the concern being sent his way from the second floor Dean was quick to send a firm order to keep Sam upstairs as he squared his shoulders to finally lock eyes with his father. "No sir, I'm not," he admitted after several seconds. "Not yet at least. Not until we cover a couple ground rules where Sam's concerned."

"Shit," Bobby swore under his breath, figuring he wasn't going to have to wait too long to use the damn shotgun on John after all when he caught the way the other hunter tensed at the words of his son.

John honestly didn't think he could be shocked anymore until he heard those simple words spoken to him by his oldest son. While he respected the guts it had taken Dean to put himself in front of those steps, he felt his temper burn at being told there needed to be ground rules before he could see his youngest.

Dean saw the way his father's hand was clenching and unclenching and the tick in his jaw that only happened when he was angry. He'd seen the signs before but didn't move, nor did he plan to when his heart suddenly jumped to his throat.

"Dean? Sam wants you."

Spinning to see Morgan descending the stairs gave Dean his first real taste of panic since his father's arrival but he knew even as he was silently telling her to go back with Sam that she wouldn't.

Having gotten Sam showered, dressed and down into an uneasy sleep, she had felt every nerve in Dean going on edge but it wasn't until she had heard his words to John that she knew he was getting to close to being hurt again. Quickly changing into jeans and a clean t-shirt, Morgan made the choice to take the attention off of her friend even if it meant letting Dean learn why she had wanted to avoid John Winchester.

"Morg, no," Dean whispered, letting his eyes move between his friend and his father. Immediately seeing the pure hate in John's eyes at the sight of the young girl he took a step up as if to shield her from any attack even though he was still reasonably certain that not even his Dad would go that far in Bobby's house.

Being careful not to step past Dean, Morgan did allow her eyes to lock on those of John Winchester. "Hello, Mr. Winchester," she greeted softly, using the same tone she always had before when greeting the man and pretending not to see or feel his animosity as she returned her attention to Dean. "Dean, Sammy was tired after his commando raid earlier but he wanted to see you before he'd crash," she offered in explanation even though he could see that his brother was already asleep and wanted no such thing.

"Uh, yeah," he replied slowly, moving up the steps but frowned when he realized that she wasn't following. "Morgan?"

"Go see Sammy, Dean. I'll be up in a second," Morgan told him easily, masking the concern she felt with a smile so much like the one he always offered her. "Sam left something in the living room and I told him I'd get it."

Hesitating for just a second, Dean shot Bobby a desperate look that pleaded with him to watch out for her before heading up to check on his brother.

Moving quickly into the library/den to grab the blanket Sam still carried with him, Morgan wasn't surprised to find John blocking her path. "You have issues other than the ones we know you do?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded tightly, fighting his basic urge to pull the knife he carried.

"I'm here because your sons asked to stay a couple days," she replied easily, watching his body language to see the tell signs of what he was considering. "If you would've showed up when Bobby told you to I'd've been long gone so now you hold your tongue and don't reach for that knife like you're thinking about and I'll be gone in the morning. Until then…cope with me but…" she stopped after she'd gotten past him to pause on the steps. "Same rules apply, John. If you ever put your damn hands on either of them it'll be the last thing you do."

Bobby's hand latched onto his friend. "Let her go, John," he ordered seriously, steering the man into the main living room since it was farther from the steps and right then he wanted distance between John and the kids. "You just settle down, give Dean some space and things will level off but only if you keep your damn temper and you don't go making any stupid mistakes."

Sitting down on the couch with a curse, John's eyes lifted to the ceiling and he knew what he had to do. It was only a matter of removing his oldest from the equation.

"Yeah, gotta get the bloody hell out of here before…hey!" Morgan had been heading to take the blanket to Sam and Dean's room. She'd just been walking past the room that Bobby had given her to use for her stay, once he'd gotten over the choking fit Dean's suggestion had caused, when an unexpected hand reached out to yank her into the room. "What the bloody…"

Tensing only briefly until she recognized the firm arm that had wrapped itself around her waist a half second before the door shut and she found herself pushed back against it with a kiss finding her lips that told of his frustration and concern.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded after easing back but still not moving his arms from around the younger girl. "Dad's still pissed and I had just made me madder. His entire attitude toward you has changed since Sam's birthday which makes me wonder if something else is going on that no one's tellin' me about," Dean's eyes were firm as they sought hers but all the teenager saw was exhaustion in eyes that he'd grown used to seeing as bright and alive. "You're not sleeping again, are you?"

Being away from the open hostility she'd picked up from John and feeling secure with Dean, Morgan struggled to hide the yawn that wanted to come as she tried to slip out of his arms only to find them holding her still with no trouble. "Sure, I sleep. What else can I do around here?" she countered, feeling on edge for the first time when she realized that she couldn't break Dean's embrace. "You planning on letting go?"

"Not really," he replied calmly, remembering his fear when he realized that Sam had not only not been asking for him but was sleeping soundly made his hands want to tremble since he had then understood that the girl had lied to him in order to get him away from John. "You lied to me, Angel."

"No, I kept you from getting your face punched again," Morgan countered, again trying to push him back only to have her friend lean in closer. "Dean…"

Knowing he was pushing his luck, Dean still could see the hate in his father's eyes when he had seen Morgan. There have been very few things that he had seen his Dad look at with such hate and none of those things were still breathing. "I don't want to see you hurt," he told her while letting his fingers move up to stroke gently and felt how tired she really was. "You've been keeping Sam from having nightmares," he suddenly realized, nearly swearing the moment she tensed and making up his mind. "You're going to bed."

A quick burst of laugher escaped before she could stop it, placing her hands on his shoulders to push but was expecting Dean's sudden move to lift her up enough in his arms that they were eye level. "Y'know, I think I told you about picking me up, Winchester," she snapped, seeing his smirk. "Dean, put me down…now."

"Sure, Morg. Just as soon as you go to sleep," he shot back, hating what he was about to do but not seeing another option. He could feel how cold her hands were becoming again and he knew that meant she'd been using too much power again and he knew why.

Bobby's rules kept them apart at night. Sam had gotten used to, if he had a bad dream, finding them and going back to sleep. Under Bobby's roof, the only way Morgan could assure that Sam slept through the night without any bad dreams was to stay awake and soothe his dreams herself. Still being weak from using her abilities on him up in the cabin, this had made her nearly back to the same state she'd been in the night Dean had first kissed her and he wasn't going to see her like that again. Especially not now that his father was in the damn house.

Letting his hand stay on her face, Dean's smile was one that Morgan hadn't seen him use before and that worried her. Normally, even when it was just them, his smile was part smirk and part cocky arrogance. That smile she was used to. That smile relaxed her. This gentle sweet smile that almost appeared shy scared her to death because Dean was never shy but before she could begin to see what he was planning she felt his lips brush against her hair and his voice was a whisper in her ear.

"Sleep," he whispered, feeling her jerk upon realizing what he was planning but he simply shifted her in his arms so he could pick her up fully. "You're too weak, Morgan. You've stayed awake to help Sammy and now you're probably one more night, two max, before you crash again," Dean's voice was quiet as he sat on the edge of the bed with his friend still in his arms. "You're sick, I'm not and…I know how to work that link. Now, you're going to go to sleep for a couple hours."

Swearing at herself for ever showing him how to use the link that was formed between them when she'd healed him once, Morgan tried to stay awake because she didn't want to sleep in this house. Almost as if he knew why she was fighting it, Dean shook his head and held her as he had Sammy when he'd been smaller.

"I won't let you be hurt while you're sleeping, babe," he promised her, easing her back on the bed before reaching for the quilt on the bottom of the bed. "No one will hurt you or Sammy tonight."

Morgan's eyes tried to stay open but Dean had been true to his word and she slowly felt herself drifting under until all she could feel was the warmth of his hand on hers. "Stay."

"Yeah, I'll stay," Dean assured her, sitting back next to her and deciding Bobby could try to force him out but until Sam woke up, he was staying right here or he was until he heard John shouting for him. "Shit!"

Hesitating, Dean considered ignoring the shout until he decided that he did not want his Dad coming upstairs after him. He didn't want him upstairs that close to either his friend or his brother. "I'll be right back, Morg," he whispered, gently brushing a finger over the necklace he'd given her before easing the door closed to go to see what his father wanted. "Yeah?" he asked wearily.

"Dean, I forgot to pick up some stuff in town before I came out," John tossed his startled son the keys to the Impala. "Take the car and go get it."

Seeing Bobby's equally surprised look, Dean caught the keys but hesitated. "Dad…I shouldn't…" he began, seeing the way his father's eyes narrowed and not wanting to start a fight yet. Looking upstairs, he figured Sam would probably sleep for awhile yet and Dean was confident that Morgan would sleep through this brief trip to town. "Fine but…let Sam sleep," he declared, waving a hand absently. "He…worked out a lot the past couple days and he's tired. I'll get him up once I get back."

"Fine, I'll leave your brother alone," John sighed, handing him a list and some money. "He'll be fine, Dean. Just go get that stuff for me."

Something didn't feel right about this but Dean pushed it aside, figuring the sooner he left the quicker he'd get back and offered a silent message to his sleeping friend as he left in the Impala, not thinking to question John's sudden attitude change as he worked on figuring out a way to keep his growing relationship with Morgan intact.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" Bobby demanded, not liking the man's new attitude or the way he kept looking up the steps. "John, why'd you send Dean into town?" he wanted to know, afraid that he suspected but wanted to hear the man say the words before he shot him.

Taking his time to reply, John slowly looked at his friend with a calm expression. Too calm for the other hunter. "I can't have that thing influencing my son, Bobby," he replied seriously, reaching for his bag. "She's dangerous and something that I should've killed the first night I met her. While Dean's gone and Sam's asleep, I'm going to take care of their little friend."

"You're going to…" Bobby actually blanched at that thought, not certain the man was serious until he saw John take out a gun. "John! She's a fourteen year old girl for God's sake!" he shouted, grabbing for the gun. "You ain't killing her. It would destroy Dean and you'd lose him for sure!"

"Bobby, I can handle my son," John replied easily, confident of that since he'd already worked on that excuse. "I just need you to…"

Staring at John as if he'd grown another head, Bobby laughed in his face. "You ain't touchin' that girl in my house, John and if you try, I'll put a damn bullet in you like I promised to do," he growled, grabbing the gun away from him and storming out the back door while muttering about morons.

"Damn it, Bobby, you just don't get it," John sighed, rubbing a hand over tired eyes when he heard a step sound in the door to the living room.

"You're not hurting Morgan."

Whirling at the small voice that spoke from behind him, John was a little surprised to see his youngest son standing there and much like he had with Dean, he gave Sam a critical once over.

John noticed that Sam still looked half-asleep as he stood there but he also noticed the determined stance the boy had. "You don't know what she is, Sam," he replied, taking a step as if to go by the boy since he knew he could handle her if he could take her by surprise and before she could use those damn powers. "She's what we hunt and you're brother should've slit her throat by now."

Knowing where his father was going and what he planned to do but not knowing where his brother was, Sam reacted on pure instinct. He wasn't going to let his Dad hurt Morgan the way he'd hurt Dean so before he could even take into account the risk to himself, Sam shoved John back as hard as he could. "No!" he shouted, hoping Bobby was close. "You aren't hurting Morgan, Dad! You aren't making her leave Dean! I won't let you!"

The unexpected, if ineffectual, attack by his younger son only served to prove to John that the girl upstairs was a threat to his boys. He couldn't afford to have Dean's head turned around by a pretty face much less one who had powers like the things John had raised his boys to kill. He also had enough discipline problems with Sam to allow this behavior.

"Sam! I know what's best now go outside while I take care of this so it's done before Dean gets back!" John snapped, grabbing the boy's shoulder to make a point when Sam responded to a well placed kick to a center nerve in his father's leg that shocked the hunter. "Sam!"

"_NO_!" Sam shouted, fear nibbling in the back of his mind but the fear for his friend was more intense and so he fought back as hard as he could. "She's our friend! If it hadn't been for Morgan, Dean woulda died from what _you _did to him! Dean loves her and she…" realizing that might have been something he shouldn't have let slip, the boy cut off with breaths coming in gasps. "Just leave her alone, Dad or…"

The hard back hand took the boy by surprise and he was knocked backwards into the living room. "I'm your father, Sam," John growled, furious at this behavior especially since he'd hoped Sam would've learned something about what happened if he disobeyed. "I say what happens. I say that thing upstairs is going to die and if you don't want to end up in a lot worse shape than your brother was you'd better learn to keep your mouth shut!" he snapped, reaching down to grab the boy by the collar when a sudden burning pain slashed over his palm.

"Not…again," Sam whispered, clearly afraid but knowing that he had to protect his friend until Dean got back from wherever he was and praying that was soon. "You…won't hurt us again. Morgan said you can't hurt us anymore. She promised that she wouldn't let you hurt De'n no more or…"

Swearing violently, John saw red. Grabbing the knife away easily, he was disgusted at how easy it was to disarm the boy and decided it was time Sam learned what it meant to pull a weapon on an opponent. "You never draw a weapon unless you mean to kill with it!" he snapped, grabbing his son up easily by the throat to slam him forcibly back against the mantle on the fireplace in the living room, not hearing or not caring about the tiny cry in the background. "You pull a damn knife on your father then you'd better be prepared to keep it!" he was furious, even more so than he had been with Dean. He continued to take out his rage over the events of the summer to this final act of disobedience out on his twelve-year-old son until he dropped the now still boy on the floor but kicked him into the side. "You don't ever raise your voice to be, Sammy! You don't ever pull a weapon on me or I'll make damn certain you don't ever see your brother again!" he promised, drawing his leg back to kick the now sobbing boy again when he was shoved across the room and into a heavy glass curio case.

"Sam, get upstairs and lock your door," Morgan ordered as she stepped into the living room, knowing she barely had the energy right now to offer a small shield for the boy much less handle his enraged father. "Go, Sam!" she snapped, wanting him out of the path of violence while offering a silent curse to both Dean and Bobby for leaving Sam alone like this.

Seeing him struggle to his feet, Morgan kept her eyes on John as she knelt to help Sam up and as she did she caught the full violent onslaught of the abuse this boy had just endured and all the rage and hate she had for John Winchester tripled.

Risking taking her eyes off the father for just a moment, she gently laid her hands on Sam's shoulders to feel them trembling and that's when she saw the blood on his back and side. "You son of a bloody bitch," she hissed through clenched teeth, knowing the back wound had come from him being slammed into the mantle repeatedly but the cut on his side… "Go, Sammy," she whispered tightly, seeing and understanding his terror.

This was the first time Sam had seen his father like this. Any other time, Dean had sent him off to play or get ice cream or anything just so Sam wasn't around to witness one of John's rages. This time, she could guess what had happened to Dean and cursed herself for being so stupid that she hadn't seen it before. "Go upstairs or find Bobby, Sammy," she told him quietly, feeling queasy suddenly and only barely caught the flash of pure panic in the boy's face. 

"Morgan!" Sam screamed upon seeing his father lunge with the knife in his fist, trying to get in between his friend and the blade. "Dad, No!"

"Sammy!" Morgan had caught the glint of the blade and only had a split second to react to remove Sam from danger since she knew she'd never be able to summon any power that fast.

Pushing Sam to one side and behind her, the teenager's momentum took her too far around and she felt the blade go through her shoulder and wasn't quite quick enough to still the cry of pain that came. "Sam, run!" she gasped out, willing the scared boy to run and was relieved when he finally managed to run out of the room yelling for Bobby Singer or Dean. "You…sent Dean out, right?"

Glaring with murder in his eyes at her, John shifted the knife in his hand for a better grip. "I knew he'd object to me killing you so I sent my son into town and by the time he gets back, it'll be…argh!" a sharp pain went up his leg but not enough to make him fall or drop the blade. "If Dean's too stupid not to see what you are then he isn't the hunter I trained him to be!"

"Dean's…a better man at sixteen than you'll…ever be," she gritted, right arm useless and forced to keep her left hand on her shoulder to keep it from bleeding out too fast. "You kill me and my mates will make sure you don't live the week. You don't think Dean'll know something from Sam?"

"Not if he wants to keep his brother," John replied, seeing her eyes jump to his at that. "They're my boys and I may have to put up with Bobby and Jim's interference but I'll be damned if I'll see my oldest going around with someone no better than what I hunt," he stated coldly, beginning to reach down to grab her while going on. "If Dean wants to be with you then I'll make damn sure he never sees Sam again. I'll either send Dean away to Caleb or Jim or since he's close to being seventeen, I'll just take Sammy and go."

The burning pain in her shoulder was nothing to the now building panic in her heart. With anyone else she'd say they were bluffing with that threat but Morgan could tell that John Winchester wasn't bluffing. He would either take Sam away or make it impossible for Dean to see his brother again. However, right then she had a more immediate problem: staying alive long enough to fix this.

John's fingers had just grabbed her by the shirt to pull the girl up in order to make his next strike with the knife easier when her eyes seemed to spark. "You'll bleed out before you get enough power to do to me what you did before."

"I don't have to stop you," she gritted, closing her eyes just as a sudden bright flash of white bombarded the living room and the sound of Bobby Singer shouting as he slammed in the front door happened all at once. "Dev, don't kill him!"

A burst of blue like fire had forcibly hurled John away from the bleeding girl to slam him up against the ceiling before pinning him to the mantle. "What? Why the hell not?" Devan MacShayne demanded as he appeared a second ahead of Bobby. "You're bleeding, the emotions in this house are like knives to my head and shouldn't there be an older boy somewhere in the middle of this mess?" he demanded all at once.

"What in God's name happened in here?" Bobby took one look at the damage in his house, to the blind fury in John's eyes and to Morgan's bleeding shoulder to throw a harsh oath out. "Damn it! What the hell did you do, John?"

"Kinda what I want to know, old man," Devan snapped, eyes going between his friend and the furious hunter who was struggling uselessly. "Dude, I could snap your bones with a flick of a finger and I'm tempted," he warned coldly, looking around the room before getting an idea of what went on. "This is out of your control now, Morg. Let me get you out."

Morgan was batting a concerned but still growling Bobby away after he'd helped her to stand shakily. "Keep him down here and fix the damage," she replied, forcing the pain aside as she willed the bleeding to stop before heading for the steps. "I…need to check on…Sam."

"You…stay away from…my son you no…" John's words cut off when the young man's hand clenched to make the energy holding him react.

"Keep talkin' Winchester and I'll make your sons orphans…which considering things might not be a bad plan," Devan decided, watching as his friend stumbled more than walked from the room before looking at Bobby. "So, you got a clue or do I turn him into something nasty before I fix your house?"

Shaking his head and ignoring the fact that this kid even got into his house, Bobby glared at John as he grabbed the knife. "Goddamn you, John! I told you not to pull this crap and what's she mean that she had to check on Sam?"

"Your pal here did something to the little one which set the boss off or so I'm seeing from the room," Devan didn't think informing Bobby of the exact details would be wise yet so as he easily kept John pinned he went about fixing the damage that had been done even though he couldn't see the reason.

Hearing Bobby's voice grow louder, Morgan tuned it out as she made it upstairs to find Sam curled on Dean's bed, crying.

"Sammy," she murmured, sitting down beside him only to fight the urge to either pass out or scream when the boy suddenly threw himself into her arms with a pained sob. "It'll be alright, Sammy. Dean'll make it better when he gets back."

Sniffling, Sam looked up at her through large wet puppy dog eyes that showed his pain and fear. "Dad'll hurt…De'n like he hurt you," he cried, rubbing his eyes. "I don' care if he hurts me but…"

Taking a closer look, Morgan noticed the bruises the boy was going to have on top of more serious wounds that she knew would haunt him. She also knew the very first second his brother noticed these that Dean would lose it.

Thinking on John's threat, she chewed her lip while lightly rubbing soothing circles over the boy's back as she had often seen Dean do. Sam and Dean were so closely devoted to one another that neither would be able to stand losing the other. She also knew that if Dean learned about John's threat or what he did to Sam just now, that he'd either take his brother and run or try to kill their Father. Still hearing the unspoken threat in the man's voice, she considered her choices before finally making one that she could only hope Dean would forgive her for.

"Sammy, I need you to listen to me," she began quietly, pushing her bleeding shoulder aside to concentrate on her friend. "I know you're scared and I can't tell you not to be but it'll be better when you wake up."

"Don' wanna sleep," Sam replied sleepily, his pain and the shock of what he'd seen today making him fall to sleep slowly but he tried to keep his eyes open to watch her. "Wanna be with you and De'n. Dad's makin' you leave and De'n…"

Morgan fought the pain those simple words caused even as she lightly let her fingers card through Sam's hair to help him sleep, taking a deep breath she felt the small amount of energy that she forced to come tingle in her hand as it soothed. "I'm sorry, Sammy," she whispered, not bothering to hide the tears that came. "You won't understand and Dean may hate me but I…I can't let John split you up. I can't let him take away the only good thing Dean still has and I can't let you remember what you saw downstairs because you've seen too much already."

Soothing Sam's fears didn't take too much power, nor did healing the many new cuts, bruises and other injuries he'd sustained. What took the most energy that she really didn't have was making certain the 12-year-old boy didn't remember his father's rage at him or the brutal attacks he'd witnessed. Morgan didn't like to do this but in order to protect Sam she didn't see another option.

"Shh, Dean'll be here when you wake up, Sam," she promised him, continuing to sit beside Sam to be sure he'd stay asleep, Morgan reached for a small notepad on the nightstand to write a note to Dean. Cursing the tears that fell on the paper, she brutally slashed them away with her still mobile hand before folding the note up.

Refusing to tell him about his father's threat or the attack, Morgan just hoped he could understand through what she did write that leaving like this was the hardest thing she could do. "Take care of Dean, Sammy," she whispered to the boy, placing a kiss on his forehead and closing the bedroom door silently as she headed back to the living room.

"God, can't I reduce him to dust or something?" Devan was whining since his temper was becoming frayed by John's threats and yelling. "I promise I'll fix the stain or hole I make?"

"Give me a second to think on that, kid," Bobby growled, furious with John and furious with himself that he'd left those kids alone for this to happen when he looked up to feel his stomach clench. "Sam sleeping?"

Morgan's face was paler than it had been and he could tell that she was favoring that right arm when she stepped into the living room, her eyes, which showed the signs of exhaustion and shock, locked on John Winchester. "Let him go."

"Huh?" Both Devan and Bobby blinked at that order but the girl snapped her fingers to take the choice away from the young mystic. "Fine, but if he moves toward you I wipe him from the Earth!" Devan snapped, not liking the tone he was hearing or the lack of power he was seeing and knowing she'd done something else.

As John slumped to the floor, he started to move when the cocking of a pistol made him look up to see that Morgan had taken the one that Bobby kept in a side table and it was currently held in her unstable left hand.

"Fine, here's the deal," she began quietly, holding his eyes. "I'm walking outta here and I'll…stay away from your sons like you want and I won't ever pick up a phone if Dean calls or call Dean again," she swallowed the tears that threatened her voice, going on in a harder tone and shifted the pistol to aim at his heart. "However, all bets are off if I ever hear or find out you touched one of them again. You can try to kill me but I will kill you if I ever find out you laid your damn hands on Dean or Sam again," turning away before John could see the tears in her eyes that this decision caused, she held out the note to Bobby. "Make sure Dean gets this. I might not be able to say goodbye like he'd want but I won't let him think I just split either."

"Kid…" Bobby hated the pain he was seeing on her when he knew the anger he'd be dealing with in Dean as soon as the boy got back to find this out. "Wait for Dean…don't go…"

Morgan laughed bitterly, knowing and not caring that Devan had placed himself between her and John. "I stay, either me or him won't make it out of this room," she told him realistically, giving the older man a tired smile that told him more than the last few days could. "Tell Dean to take care of…our Sammy or I'll kick his butt from here to Florida. Tell him…well, I guess that part won't matter once he gets back but tell him that…just tell Dean to be careful cause I won't have his back anymore."

Bobby watched as the teenage girl seemed to want to say something else but finally nodded to Devan who shot both hunters a warning look before snapping his fingers and taking his friend out of the house without another word. "You stupid son of a bitch," he growled, turning to throw a fist into John's face. "If it weren't for those boys I'd toss your ass outta my house and tell you never to show back up, John!" jerking a frustrated hand up to yank his trucker cap off. "Those boys don't have jack squat in their lives that's good and you just cost Dean the one thing besides Sam that he'd gained!"

"I won't have my son with something like that," John muttered, rubbing his jaw to shove past Bobby. "I'm going to take a shower and change. Tell me when Dean comes back and then you don't have to worry cause I'm taking the boys and leaving."

"Like hell you are," Bobby mumbled under his breath, starting to look at the note when John's hand suddenly snatched it and tossed it into the fire. "John! The boy deserves to…"

Staring at the burning letter, John walked out. "I'll tell Dean what he needs to know and nothing more, Bobby because I wasn't kidding when I said that I'd take Sammy and go," he warned, making sure his friend understood the meaning of those words. "Dean'll either listen to me on my terms or he can go his way without anything from anybody."

Scowling, the older hunter did understand and was half tempted to call the man's bluff if he thought for a second John had been bluffing. Torn between calling Jim Murphy and just beating the crap out of John, he suddenly understood why Morgan had that boy fix the damage and he groaned. 'This is gonna backfire in all their faces,' he sighed, whirling when he heard a shout and something slam. "John?"

Feeling a little bad at how he'd snapped on Sam, John was going to check on his son when he felt burning eyes on him as he climbed the steps. Looking up he caught sight of Sam sitting on the landing with his fists clenched in his lap. He also noticed the boy didn't show a single damn bruise. "Sam, what're you doing up?"

"You made her leave," Sam mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before staring at his father with more hatred than any twelve-year-old should have. "Morgan's gone and you made her leave."

"Sam, we were over this," John sighed, stepping up to the landing to have his son jump to his feet. "That girl, she wasn't normal. She's what we hunt. If you and Dean kept associating with her, other hunters would come after you for her being a freak and you don't want to see your brother touching something…"

"I hate you!" Sam had known something was off when he woke up and a quick look in the room that Morgan was using showed it empty gave him the final clue. A tiny little voice in the back of his said that something else was going on but he ignored it in favor of sitting in the shadows on the second floor to listen to the conversation going on below him. He'd known fear and silent bitterness since his father had dumped them on Pastor Jim but nothing like what bloomed inside him now.

His brother had been happy. Sam knew that once Dean learned of this that his happiness would vanish again and he'd go back to being moody and sarcastic all the time. "I. Hate. You!" he screamed, not caring if he was too close to the top step or not or what may happen to him. "You made her go! Morgan isn't a freak! She's our friend!"

"Sam!" John shifted before the boy's lunge could shove him down the steps, grabbing Sam's shoulder to keep him from falling as well but grunted when his son moved with more agility than he'd ever seen him use before to begin lashing out blindly with fists that weren't used to hand to hand. "Sam, stop it!" he snapped, finally having enough and grabbing him by the front of his shirt to shove him hard against the wall. "Sammy! Stop it, damn it!"

Furious at the boy's reaction to this, John's hand slapped before his mind could think and like so many other times when his anger took control he lost awareness until a hand grabbed his fist in a vice-like grip and a firm, strong body got between him and his son.

"That's enough, John!" Bobby shouted, breaking the grip John had on Sam's shirt to shove the senior Winchester toward the steps. "You get the hell outta my house until you cool yourself off or by God I'll fill you so full buckshot…" he growled, keeping himself between John and Sam. "Go, John! _NOW_!"

Waiting until he'd heard the front door slam to kneel next to Sam to see several bruises with a trail of blood from his mouth, Bobby cursed under his breath while getting the boy to his feet. "Let's get these cleaned up before Dean gets back here and blows up for more than he's going to.

"Dad's gonna lie to Dean, ain't he?" Sam asked, sitting still to allow Bobby to check the bruise on his neck. "If I tell Dean the truth, will he believe me or…Morgan won't ever come back, will she?"

"Sam…I don't know, Sam," Bobby admitted grimly, hearing the sound of the Impala returning and figuring what John would tell his oldest even before he heard the first shout. "Damn it."

Dropping his eyes to the picture in his hand, Sam's lip trembled. "You think she'll forget us?"

Such a simple question and the hunter couldn't work up an answer for the boy, wincing as the front door opened and slammed shut, followed by the sound of running feet up the steps. "Sam, I don't think that girl could ever forget you…or your brother," he finally responded, standing as the bedroom door flew open.

"Sam," the voice was rougher than normal and Bobby could almost feel the emotion pouring off the older boy as he came over to drop onto the bed next to his brother.

Figuring John had spun a tale so think with lies and half-truths to get Dean to be this calm yet to have anger seeping off of him, Bobby left the brothers before he said something that would make it worse but as he did he heard Dean's last words.

"I'll make it better, Sammy. One of these days, I'll make all of this better and I'll get her back."

**Present Day, Singer Salvage:**

Eyes snapping open with a painful gasp, Dean suddenly remembered why he hated Angels of any kind. "Cause every goddamn time one touches me I end up worse off than before," he muttered, pushing up slowly until he could sit up without the world spinning and leaned back against a car.

Looking around, he remembered the visit by Lucifer and getting zapped into the flashback from hell that once again made him wish he could've done more damage to his father when something in his hand made him look down. Frowning at the crumpled and yellowed piece of note paper, Dean felt his jaw clench when he unfolded it to recognize Morgan's shaky handwriting and he knew what this was.

_Dean, I know you're gonna be mad when you get back and read this but…I couldn't wait for you. I have to go and I don't know when or if I'll get to see you or Sammy again. This isn't like the other times, Dean. Your Dad knows what I am and…if I don't leave or if you see me again…I just don't want you to lose him. Sammy needs you, Dean. Don't ever let John make you think otherwise. He said he'd take Sammy away, Dean and I can't let that happen so I've left. Yeah, a coward's way out maybe but all the power in the bloody world can't stop him from hurting Sam if he wanted to._

_Sam's sleeping now and I hope he stays asleep until you get back…where the bloody hell are you anyway, Dean? Tell him I'm sorry and I hope you don't hate me too much but I had to do what I could to protect you. I'm…sorry and…I…guess it's silly to say it on paper when I was too afraid to say it to you but…I loved you and I hope you find happiness one day. Don't let John turn you too much and watch out for Sammy or I'll kick your…_

Staring at the paper with burning eyes, Dean noticed the stains on the paper and he knew she'd been crying when she wrote this. He also guessed she'd written in with her left hand since the letters were slanted at an odd angle in comparison to her normal handwriting.

Remembering every single image from that memory rush, he struggled to bury the rage at his father for touching his brother. The rage he felt at himself for believing what his father had told him and for not seeing the shadows in Sam that night even when the smaller boy had slipped out of their room to crawl into Morgan's bed and the way Bobby made sure John wasn't alone with Sam.

" 'Dean, ain't nothin' in this life your Daddy's takin' you down black and white,'" Bobby had told him two days later when they left his place. " 'There's a lot of gray and a lot of lies so you just make sure you know what's what when the time comes.'"

Slipping the note into his pocket, he let his head rest against the car until he heard a sound that he prayed he'd never hear again…the howl of a hellhound.

Blood going to ice, Dean's memory began to return and he heard Lucifer's last few words. "Sammy," he whispered, thinking of his brother out in the junkyard without his memories being tracked by Meg and those damn hellhounds when another thought slammed him.

Morgan was looking for Sam without any clue to the danger that was around them. He knew should could probably handle Meg but the thought of the young woman, who still didn't have full power back, facing down hellhounds for his brother brought memories of Carthage, Missouri back and he remembered hearing Jo scream as she was ripped up by one and…

"No," he gritted, dragging himself to his feet to find the shotgun he'd dropped. "Not again. I won't lose anyone else I love to those damn dogs or to those damn bastards," Dean swore to himself, feeling his head swim but shrugging it off as he took off in the direction that he had figured his brother would be going while hoping Morgan could hear him with his head ringing so bad. "Morgan!"

The back part of Bobby's junkyard had always been the safest since no one hardly came out this far. Sam had discovered this as a child when he'd want to be alone or after a fight with his Dad or anything. He and Dean used to play in or around these cars all the time so Sam had always known the ones that were safe and the ones that weren't.

When he'd run from Bobby's house he'd instinctively knew where to come to feel safe until his brother or their friend could come for him. The lot, however, seemed different to him. The cars he'd always played on or hidden in weren't here which left him more confused than he already was.

Tired and in pain, Sam finally slumped down on the ground against the side of a gold Honda Civic to think. His head hurt so bad along with everything else that Sam didn't understand. He didn't remember being hurt this bad by his Dad. He also didn't understand the dreams or images that were flashing in his mind of things that scared him.

He'd dreamed such awful dreams lately but it was him when it couldn't have been him and that left him even more afraid. He could see himself leaving his father…leaving Dean to go to college, but he'd never leave his brother behind. Sam had promised Morgan to take care of Dean but he saw himself all grown up with a pretty blond girl that…

Flashes of fire, of screams tore into his mind. He remembered Dean…he remembered…what the hell did he remember and…

"Argh!" Sam grabbed his head as his mind was suddenly bombarded with images of school, of…Jess, of the night Dean came to…Stanford because their Dad was missing and… "Oh, God,"

"Poor, poor baby," a mocking voice drew his eyes up even as he heard a growl that froze his blood. "You probably have all those nasty memories running loose in that great big giant brain and don't know what any of 'em are, don't you, Sammy?" Meg teased, standing a few feet from Sam and smiling at his confused look. "Like you don't even know me, do you?"

Sam stared at the brown haired woman and images of another time, another place, another woman shot into his thoughts. He'd left Dean to go find their Dad on his own, a blond girl alongside a road and…pain burned through him as he groaned but a snarl from an invisible dog made him stare.

The growls scared him. He couldn't see the dog it came from and it didn't sound too big but the very sound itself was like nails on a chalkboard to him and flashes of Dean being tore to shreds hit him. "No…Dean, no!" he forced the heels of his palms against his eyes to try to block out the images of holding his brother's body or of…

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, what am I going to do with you?" Meg smiled, kneeling down to look at the young man. "Bet if you still had all that yummy demon blood surging in you that this wouldn't be happening to you," she taunted him, reaching out to pet one of the hellhounds before letting it go. "Don't worry, they won't kill you…like they did with Dean or that pretty little blond you had in Carthage…not that you remember that day cause you don't."

Sam jerked away from the snarl that was right next to him but some deeper instinct had him staying still instead of running like he knew he probably should. "I'm…not afraid of you," he responded finally, guessing he should be but he knew he wasn't alone. I'm not alone either."

Very amused by the tone, Meg laughed until she had to wipe her eyes. "Sammy, your big brother is so not an issue this time. Dean's not coming to save you," she told him, expecting to see eyes wide with fear or something but when Sam's hazel eyes lifted to her again she only saw a small smile. "What? You think I'm kidding? My father handled Deano, Sammy," she remarked with a smirk, seeing him jerk when one of her pets nipped the thigh that had already been tore by black dogs. "You're all alone with me and my puppies."

"No, I'm not…Meg," Sam spoke back, saying her name finally as something else flickered briefly in his eyes.

Not liking Sam's tone suddenly or the way he was looking at her as if his memories of her had surfaced thinly, Meg slipped a knife from under her short jacket and took a step toward Sam. "Oh, I think those pesky memories are playing tricks on you, Sammy-boy," she remarked. "It's just you, me, and my puppies out here and you are going to scream for…" another step when she hit a static charge that made her gasp.

"Oh, I so do not think so, bitch," Morgan remarked from directly behind her, voice serious and blue eyes cold as she took in the scene in front of her.

The young British woman had felt the change in the area as well as feeling Dean's anxiety levels increase but she knew Sam was in the most danger. The demon wearing young woman wasn't a threat since she wasn't in the same power range as Morgan even with weakened abilities. The threat that did or had concerned Morgan was when she heard the first hellhound. Dealing with a demon, protecting Sam and coping with the mutts from Hell could have been a problem.

Until she came around the corner to take in the group and while she was probably one of the few people alive who could see a hellhound normally, even Morgan had to stop and nearly gawk this time.

"You are kidding me, right?" she asked, looking between Meg and the hounds. "You seriously expect anyone to be scared of them?"

Meg scowled, not expecting to face someone not afraid of either her or the hounds as she ran a hand over one of the hounds heads. "Sweetie, Sammy's off limits but my Father said you weren't," she threatened, showing her knife and not having any fear about turning her back on Sam in this state. "One word and they'll rip into you like Lilith's pets did to Dean or…" a sharp burning light ripped into her shoulder. "That hurt!"

"Really? Well, that isn't anything compared to what I will do to you," Morgan shot back, eyeing the dogs again before sticking her tongue in her cheek. "Yeah, they sound ferocious," she agreed before she had to laugh. "Except your petting thin air since that dog's barely a foot off the damn ground. What's Lucifer doing? He wants me and Dean out of the way so he sends some demon chippie that Dean's mopped the floor with before and…what the bloody hell are these? Hell-Yorkies or something?" rolling her eyes, Morgan knelt while keeping a sharp eye between Meg and Sam to hold her hand out with a thin smile. "C'mere."

Sam's eyes watched his friend kneel and call something that was growling yet he couldn't see it to her, fear curling in him as memories of Dean…dying flooded his mind, memories of Jo… "Morgan, no!"

"Stay where you are, Sam," she called out, not moving her eyes from Meg who was frowning even more as she watched one of the fierce new Hellhounds of her Father actually go toward the outstretched hand. "Well, aren't you a…pretty won't be the word I'd use but you are a cute little bugger," Morgan let the little tongue lick her hand before she had to stare when the hellhound, who looked more like a mixed up Yorkie from Hell, fell on the ground and rolled over. "Yeah, this lot'll tear people up as soon as they're done getting their bellies scratched," she decided, standing to face Meg. "I can name a couple Angels that are more fierce then these pups. Wanna back off?"

"You…no one can see…" Meg stared at the young woman blankly before she screamed in anger and lunged with the knife. "Sammy belongs to…" 

"No one," Morgan countered, stepping to one side easily before she grabbed Meg by a handful of long hair, tripped her legs out from under her and before she hit the ground stuck the Enochian inscribed blade into her chest.

Meg gasped as the knife went in, trying to mist out of the body she was using as she normally would when in danger but found she couldn't as an arm tightened around her neck. "No…how…you can't…"

"Daddy should've told you what I was when he sent you after Sam, Meg," Morgan told her quietly, twisting the knife in deeper. "There's a damn reason I can kill both Angel and Demon and why I can see a hellhound on a regular basis. As for why you can't mist out of that body? Nice little knife here that was made out of holy silver, blessed by the Pope and several other Holy Men and of course inscribed with a cute little Enochian spell that not only hurts your kind, it also locks you in the goddamn shell until I rip you out and banish you back to Hell."

In more pain than even the first time Sam and Dean used that exorcism on her and realizing that she was facing someone who could possibly kill her, Meg resorted to her last desperate act. "Father!"

Scowling when the demon possessed young woman seemed to vanish into thin air, Morgan shot the knife a dirty look. "Well, couldn't stop that, could you?" she muttered, eyeing the Hellyorkies carefully to see that most of them had taken to just sitting around Sam while one was chewing on its brother's head. "Jack, luv?" she called to the mystic who she knew was still in the house while she went closer to Sam but never let her attention leave the dogs that had been left behind when Meg vanished.

"What?" he growled, having a headache already and something was making it worse. "Dean with you cause I'm picking up some really odd vibes from out there," he commented, grabbing the book a second before Bobby Singer threw it at something stupid Castiel said when suddenly Jack noticed his friend's way too sweet tone. "What?" he asked more cautiously this time.

"You know that pet dragon Dev keeps in your basement?" she began calmly, counting heads to be sure all the rather strange looking Hellhounds were accounted for since she sure didn't need one scaring the crap out of Dean.

Feeling that headache about to get worse, Jack forced his powers to search the yard to see what she was and nearly dropped the heavy book of Enochian that Bobby had wanted from a top shelf. "What in the hell are those things?" he demanded, sure he was seeing wrong as he counted six very small, very Yorkie looking hellhounds all playing around and… "Are those hellhounds and does that one have a…pink bow?"

"Huh?" Bobby Singer turned from what he was doing even as Castiel was staring.

"Yeah, cute, huh?" Morgan nodded, scooting one away from Sam before it crawled in his lap and scared the kid to death. "Think these will coexist with Dev's dragon?"

"Dev's dragon will eat those…no, never mind. Those things will probably scare that overgrown spoiled rotten dragon," Jack muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, I'll zap 'em to the store or to Ethan," he decided his brother owed him for this. "Boss, odds are good that…Boss? Shit, I hate it when she shuts me out."

Confident that Jack would handle the Yorkies from Hell, Morgan sat down a little bit away from where Sam was sitting to look at him closely.

He still seemed pale, but the way he was sweating also told her that his fever must have broke…which may or may not be a good thing. She knew most of his injuries were on the inside, though the pain was still intense so as the dogs vanished with a spell from a confused mystic, she eased closer until she could just touch his arm, surprised when he didn't jerk.

"Y'know, running out here and scaring the crap outta me and your brother not a good plan, Sammy," she remarked calmly, wishing she's thought to bring a jacket for him to put on over the still too large hoodie. "You okay?"

More at ease since Meg had vanished and the growling had stopped, Sam nodded slowly even though he kept his eyes moving restlessly and seemed to not pay attention when her fingers glittered softly on his skin. "Where's Dean?" he asked suddenly, moving his head finally to watch Morgan but not moving his arm.

Focusing on using the power she'd regained to take away the internal pain left over from the abuse he'd suffered at Zachariah's hands, she didn't instantly hear his question or pick up on the change in tone. "Taking the bloody long away around as usual," she replied, feeling where his more severe pain was and automatically going there but knowing she needed to be careful with touching his back when he suddenly shot to his feet. "Sam?"

"C'mere," he was quickly to grab her hand and head down a path in the junkyard that made her breath catch. Sam slowed down when he came to the car he'd wanted. "Bobby kept it because Dean asked him to."

The same old Mustang that she had been watching Dean work on the last day here at Bobby before things went wrong sat in the same spot and though she doubted if it still ran, she was a little shocked that it wasn't in worse shape.

"When we'd still come here, before Dad and Bobby's last blowup, Dean would come out here and work on it," Sam spoke quietly before sitting down on the ground beside the car to look up at her with eyes that were still too large but appeared to be…clear. "He still comes out here to work on it, to keep the rust away, or just to sit in it like you two would do."

Sitting next to him, Morgan swallowed the lump that was forming and again looked at Sam. His voice was teetering back and forth but it was the tone that stayed the same. His eyes, while they were still too large, they didn't appear to have the same shadows as they had been having. Now, they just appeared haunted and she wished she were strong enough to read him but between everything that happened in West Virginia, to John's attack in spirit form, to using her abilities today, she could feel herself going downhill and prayed Dean showed up soon.

"Why?" she asked quietly, looking back at the car to recall a time that seemed like a lifetime ago when both she and Dean could still claim to have some innocence left, before that damn final fight.

"Probably for the same reason you always wrote to us even though you never got a letter back, or why you still sent birthday cards or little packages with no name on birthdays or Christmas or…" Sam had leaned his back to stare at the sky before sliding a pure Sammy look toward her as he went on dryly. "Or why my Literature Professor was a reserve mercenary of Kelly's or the reason you scoped Jess out before I moved in with her or any of the things you did for Dean or…

"Okay, I get it," Morgan finally cut him off before moving so she could touch his face, seeing every fear and buried emotion in Sam's eyes once again that she held her breath. "Sam? You in there again?" she asked warily.

Letting his eyes close briefly, Sam merely shook his head and shivered through the hoodie. "I remember, Morgan," he murmured, not seeing it but feeling her tense as she moved back closer to him for support if he needed it.

"You remember what, Sam?" she asked, figuring if he remembered every damn detail from his capture in Birkstown than Dean was going to have his hands full soon but frowned when he moved a hand up to touch her injured shoulder gently and she knew before he spoke what it was that he remembered. "Sam."

"I remember why you left that day," he told her, his hand being careful to not hurt her again when he kept her from shifting away. "I remember what Dad did…to me and to you. You left not only because he threatened to take me away from Dean but because he tried to hurt you. You stayed away from us, from Dean, or at least stayed away so we didn't know you were close, because you promised you would so that Dad wouldn't leave Dean or…"

Morgan sighed, wondering of all the things that Sam could've remembered why he had to pick that memory to focus on when she saw his eyes and the pain in them, guessing what he was thinking. "It wasn't your fault that I left, Sam," she told him firmly, refusing to have that blame on him. "I left because I knew once John got back that I wouldn't be able to stay. He'd seen and experienced my powers first hand so I knew I'd lose Dean…it was something I accepted but…"

"But it was my fault that he stabbed you," the younger man cut in, now vividly recalling seeing the knife in his father's hand as it came toward Morgan. "You pulled me behind you and took the blade in your shoulder. Then you…"

"Sam, what I did that day I did for the same reason I did what I did for Dean at the cabin. To protect you," she responded seriously, surprised by how cold it was suddenly but focused on Sam's hazel eyes. "I knew Dean would be upset but I also wasn't expecting my letters to you guys to get hijacked. I guess that's where my note to Dean went that day too. God, it's amazing he didn't kill me that day in Oregon."

Reaching out to lay a hand over her hand, Sam knew her skin shouldn't have been that cold. "I found the letters in Bobby's desk shortly after Dad died while we were staying here," he remarked with a yawn, moving closer until he was closer to her. "Does Dean know about 'em?"

"I'm guessing you're back in there, Sam?" Morgan countered, feeling him leaning closer so as she would when he was much smaller, she let him slip his arms around her but found it much harder to hold him since he sprouted to Sasquatch size as Dean would say.

"Considering the things I remember I kind of wish I wasn't but…yeah," he sighed, letting his eyes close for a little bit and wondered where his brother was. "Is Dean…okay?"

Wondering that herself since she knew it shouldn't have taken him this long, Morgan forced a smile. "Dean's coming, Sam," she assured him, throwing out a mental shout to her friend to get his ass in gear. "He probably got lost or…"

"Or he hates me because I couldn't stop Lucifer at Carthage and Jo and Ellen got killed?" Sam broke in, still torn up about that mistake and it showed when he began to shake again. "Maybe Dad shoulda killed me then none of this would've happened," he muttered, moving a hand to his eyes when a gentle touch made him lift his head. "Dean could've left Dad, gone on his own, been happy and not get stuck with a brother who just ended the world or…"

"Whoa," Morgan finally cut him off, swearing to slap Dean in the head for this blunder. "Sammy, you did not end the whole bloody world. You and Dean were both led down that path," she still hated that she hadn't seen that coming. "I should've done more for you while Dean was gone but…it hurt so much to see you because I'd remember him and…"

"You loved him," Sam told her, feeling her tense but went on speaking, only when he dropped his voice to a near whisper she knew this was going to be bad. "I…love him but I know that after finding out about the blood, Ruby, setting Lucifer free, to getting Ellen and Jo killed that Dean…" he stopped to look at Morgan with tears shining. "I thought after he came back for me in Oregon, okay maybe you made him, that we'd be okay eventually but now, after Carthage…does Dean hate me again, Morgan?" he asked with the same innocence that he'd showed fifteen years earlier. "Will he ever think of me as his brother again or…"

"I never hated you, Sam."

Both Sam and Morgan jerked in surprise at Dean's voice. Not only at hearing it since neither had been expecting to at that time but it was the deep, rarely used raw emotional tone that he only used in rare occasions.

"I told you that day in Oregon that I never hated you and I don't," Dean remarked, walking slowly from where he'd been standing to listen to his brother's tear choked words to kneel on the other side of his brother. "Carthage now was…"

"My fault," Sam whispered, knowing this and knowing that it had been only a matter of time before his brother finally said it. "I know that. I wish to God that I could take it back. That it would've been me instead of Jo and Ellen who'd died there…I guess so do…"

"Dean," Morgan's tone sharpened when she saw the flash of anger in the older Winchester's green eyes a second before his hand moved.

Sam instinctively went still in preparation of the fist he knew would come but he wasn't expecting when Dean's hand gripped his neck in order to jerk him into his arms tightly.

"You finish that sentence and you will be washing and waxing the Impala for a damn year, little brother," he warned gruffly, feeling the concern in Morgan's gaze as he met it over Sam's shoulder but could only nod for the moment. "We got the tip for the Colt from a bubblebrained airhead who thinks Chuck is the next best thing to sliced bread, Sam," Dean began seriously, having had time to consider what he should and shouldn't say to his brother right then. "We jumped on Becky's lead without thinking that someone else could've slipped it to her. We found out about Crowley, we involved Ellen and Jo, we went to Carthage not knowing that the damn gun wouldn't kill Lucifer. The operative word here, Sammy, is _we_."

Feeling Sam shake, Dean tightened one arm but moved his other around to grasp his brother's chin in order to see his face, recognizing the same pain in his eyes as he'd been too blind recently to see. "Ellen and Jo both knew the risks and Jo, well, it was me she got hurt saving so…that's on my head, not yours."

"You cared for Jo, though," Sam mumbled, not seeming to notice the way Dean tensed or how Morgan looked away at those innocent words. "I always thought you thought of her like a kid sister or something but…"

Being very careful to phrase this correctly, Dean nodded slowly as he leaned Sam back against the car but placed both hands on his neck as it was a familiar move to them, one he prayed his brother wouldn't push away from now.

"Jo…reminded me of someone, Sam, but…no matter what I couldn't have loved her like she deserved," he admitted, letting his eyes slowly meet Morgan's. "Jo was a good person, a good hunter, with an attitude that made me seem charming…shut up, Sam," he warned at the small snort he heard. "But, I guess I knew that she wasn't the girl for me. I had that once…I had the perfect girl once and like a stupid fool, I let her go."

Frowning slightly, Sam's exhaustion was making him not think as he mixed up his brother's quiet admission. "Nah, I liked Cassie and all but I don't think she was perfect for you, Dean," he yawned again, blinking as the fingers gripping his neck tightened slightly. "Owww, wha…"

"Sammy, you're gonna get me killed before anything else does if you don't remember Dean Winchester Rule #5," he growled. "Little brothers are better off seen and not heard."

While Sam's still recovering mind processed that mild insult, Morgan finally shook her head but stood carefully to lean against the hood of the car much like she had once. "You didn't let go, Dean," she told him, understanding what he seemed to be saying. "I'm the one who walked away, not you."

"Yeah, you walked away," Dean agreed more quietly, not letting go on Sam but moving his eyes to lock on hers fully. "You walked away _after _you stopped my father from nearly killing Sam, _after_ you took a knife in your shoulder protecting my brother. You walked away _after_ you used powers that you didn't have yet to heal him and make certain he didn't remember the full details so Sammy wouldn't be anymore afraid of Dad than he was. And _after _you made a damn promise that you never should have made," he went on, seeing the way Morgan tensed as those words sunk in. "You walked away after all of that and because he threatened to take Sam away but you still helped us."

"Someone was bleedin' chatty," Morgan muttered, crossing her arms tightly when she started to turn only to have a hand catch her left shoulder.

Giving Sam a look that had always meant 'stay put', Dean caught her arm to turn her back to him and to make sure she stayed where they could be close to Sam. "Yeah, memory rush from Hell is what that was," he replied sourly, head still ringing. "Apparently Sammy's remembered for awhile now because Lucifer saw it in his brain and thought I should to…I actually kind of agree with him…now."

Not happy to find out that Dean learned the truth, Morgan was especially not happy to learn how he had learned it. "It doesn't change that I left, Dean. Knowing the why I left doesn't change the fact that I…"

"It changes it because for fifteen years I believed that you'd left me for no reason!" Dean snapped, moving to pace a few steps away. "I believed Dad's version of what happened after he got me to go to town for nothing. I believed that entire summer meant nothing to you, that Sam and I meant nothing but…"

"Duck," Sam called lightly, figuring what would be coming even before glass shattered in two windshields around his brother. "Told ya."

Wanting to turn around to shoot his little, very mouthy, brother a look, Dean figured that might not be safe as he recognized the hurt anger in his friend's blue eyes.

"If that had been the case, I would've left right after we got to Bobby's and not let you convince me to stay a few more days," she countered, hating how simple that pain could still come back even as something Sam was doing caught her attention. "If you had seen the damn note I left you then maybe…"

Taking the paper from his pocket, Dean held it out to her. "This one? Dad burned it before Bobby could give it to me but I guess something as small as that doesn't bother the Devil when he wants to make a point," he said, giving the words another once over. "No where does this mention what Dad did, Morg. You weren't ever going to tell me that, were you?"

"No, because Sam didn't need to remember and I wasn't going to set you off by saying what John tried to do to Sam," Morgan ignored the way his eyes narrowed at her choice of words. "Sam was what was important, Dean."

"Funny, I happen to think you both were important to me," he tossed back with a sigh. "Damn it, Morgan. I would've protected you both if you'd just stayed until I got back."

"Dad would've killed her before he let that happen," Sam spoke up, the pain that was coming again in waves making him too chatty and also very close to slipping back under. "You promised you'd make it right one day, Dean."

Moving so he could kneel back beside Sam, Dean laid a gentle hand on the back of his neck while noticing that his brother was drawing protective signals in the dirt like he used to as a kid. "I know I did, Sammy," he murmured, meeting Morgan's eyes again when she knelt on Sam's other side. "When did you remember that day, Sam?"

Hearing her warning hiss and expecting to hear Sam say sometime just recently, it rocked both Dean and Morgan when the younger Winchester spoke next.

"Sometime during the four months you were in Hell," Sam shrugged, wincing as his leg wound pulled. "I'd gotten drunk in a bar, got in a fight and some sore loser tried to run a knife into my gut. It was sometime then that I remembered seeing Dad with that knife," he paused to look up with a frown. "I kept thinking how disappointed Morgan would be if she could see me right then."

While Dean's brain was trying to wrap itself around that admission, Morgan was eyeing Sam dryly before reaching over to gently nudge his shoulder. "Sammy, where'd you wake up?" she asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Sam blinked at the question but then tried to remember. "In a motel a few miles from the bar," he looked between them. "Never figured out how I got there or how I didn't get killed or why I didn't bleed out since I know I didn't stitch myself that time and Ruby sucked at…"

"Words, Sammy, words," Dean waved a hand, not wanting that imagery again but his eyes were drawn to the way Morgan was watching Sam and figuring it out. "You were watching him that night."

"College boy ain't so smart all the time," she smirked, grinning at Sam's tired but still very Sammy bitch face. "It was the anniversary of the time John dropped you two off with Jim after he'd beat the crap outta you and Sam always self-destructed around that time," Morgan told Dean, catching Sam's chin before it dropped. "Even at Stanford with the blond Barbie wannabe, Sam would get drunk and have to be carried home by a couple well-meaning and always conveniently in the right place at the right time campus security guards…"

"Who worked for a certain snotty mercenary?" Dean guessed, wondering how that ritual had escaped his notice.

As Morgan merely shrugged in reply, Sam lifted his head to look between them before settling on his brother. "Dean…I'm tired of getting you hurt."

"Okay, it's time we get him back inside," Dean decided, knowing the tone well enough after twenty-seven years of handling his brother in varying stages. "Sammy, awesome big brothers are supposed to get hurt while taking care of their pain in the ass little brothers and…"

"Watch it, Dean," Morgan warned sharply, grabbing for Sam's arm when he went off balance as soon as Dean helped him up but like when Sam was a child and sick, adult Sam was just as clingy and unmanageable. "I like your face but can make a brief exception to smack you."

Smirking, Dean finally got a solid hold of Sam but nearly lost it when his brother suddenly went down hard as the leg that had been a black dog's chew toy crumpled under his weight. "Sammy!"

"I hurt so much," Sam mumbled, now that his mind was slowly coming to grasp with not only the current events but also the past he'd blames himself for, his system was beginning to crash. Feeling the pain of injuries that he couldn't see but knew they had been there the memories of what happened to him inside that barn in West Virginia surfaced with a vengeance. 'Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" cautious now since he didn't like how white Sam's face was going or how clammy his skin had suddenly become. "Sammy? You alright?"

Looking up at his brother, something still bothered Sam. "Don't leave, 'kay?" he asked, voice going soft even before Dean saw his brother's eyes roll back and lunged for him.

"Damn it!" he swore, catching Sam's shoulders before he fell face first into the dirt. "Well, he'll be fun when he wakes up, I'm sure."

Morgan had knelt next to the brothers to see that while Sam was still cool his pulse was too fast. "He's going back into shock, Dean," she told him grimly, looking around to judge the distance from where they were to the house. "Fifteen years ago this wasn't an issue because he was at a size where you could carry him the entire way back to Bobby's house," she knew that Dean understood their problem when he frowned in consideration. "Now, with your shoulder hurt and the new bruises you got earlier, you can't carry Sam all the way back and while I could probably teleport halfway…"

"No," Dean cut that plan off firmly, not needing both of them unconscious on him again. "Toss a coin. Your mystic or my Angel, pick one."

Debating on telling her friend just how wrong that sentence was, Morgan considered. While Jack's abilities were a bit smoother, the Winchesters were more at ease with Castiel so with a sigh, she took out a coin from her pocket. "Heads, Cas or tails and it's Jack," she told him, flipping it in the air to catch it before he could. "Hmm, heads."

"That the same coin we used in the mountains?" Dean asked while trying to hold Sam up and dig for his cell phone at the same time. "That thing always comes up heads."

"You're lucky that way, hotshot," she smiled, pocketing the coin before he could see it and taking his phone. "Yeah, lose the attitude and come beam the boys back to the house," Morgan ignored the way Dean was watching her and was glad that Jack must have told the Angel where to find them because soon she heard the flutter of wings. "I'll be back. I just want to be sure Lucifer didn't leave any surprises laying around."

Dean had his doubts about that but before he could counter, he felt Castiel's hand and knew he'd be yelling about the trip back to the house.

Waiting until she was sure she was alone, Morgan gave in finally to the urge to drop as she felt every wound she still had, every ounce of used up energy and the fears and worries she still felt for the boys. Touching the Mustang, she recalled the times out here watching as Dean and the car battled wills, while she watched and Sam played with the dog that Bobby had at the time.

Letting her head rest on the door of the car, she closed her eyes. Dean knew the truth finally and she was sure he'd been shown the truth in living Technicolor which wouldn't endear him to John any. She knew he had her letters but probably hadn't had the time to read them…at least she hoped not because it would just hurt them both if he read the last letter.

Morgan had heard the unspoken grief in Dean's voice when he'd talked about Jo Harvelle and she knew he'd downplayed his feelings for the petite blonde-haired woman. Dean wore his heart on his sleeve when he allowed anyone to see it and it was clear that he blamed himself for her death which wasn't going to help Sam. Nor would it help Sam if Dean started picking over the past. Best to just leave it alone and best for the Winchesters if she left them alone.

Sam and Dean shouldn't have been involved in the mess in Birkstown and that had been her fault. Dean's wound, Sam's traumas wouldn't have happened if she hadn't gotten them involved in something that they normally wouldn't have been.

"Dean said to tell you to stop brooding and get back to the house before he comes after you himself," Castiel's voice spoke from behind her. "Of which Jack offered what would happen to Dean if he did that and then Dean…"

"Got the picture, thanks," she rolled her eyes, knowing she needed to face Dean but also knowing he needed to focus on his brother. "Castiel…tell Dean…" she had started to turn to face the trench coat wearing Angel when she saw a movement from the corner of her eye a second before two fingers lightly touched her forehead and the world dropped into darkness.

Quickly catching the young woman as she fell into his arms, Castiel easily lifted her into his arms just as his phone rang with a ring tone that he seriously needed to have Sam change for him since he just didn't think 'Devil With A Blue Dress On' is an appropriate choice for him. "Hello, Dean," he greeted simply, listening briefly before looking down. "Yes, I have her and…yes, you were correct. She was planning to duck out on you."

The voice on the other end replied with five sharp words that Castiel figured could have been heard without the use of a phone if Bobby's windows had been open. "I'll bring her back, Dean," he replied, then considered Jack's temperament. "Might I suggest however that you duck because as soon as my nephew learns that I…knocked out his employer, he might try to kill you?"

Dean's reply was short and pithy and the Angel merely sighed while also reminding himself never to bet with Dean again since he still wasn't sure where he would find what Dean wanted since he lost the bet over the girl's intended move.

Appearing back in Bobby's library with Morgan still asleep in his arms, Castiel saw the way Bobby's eyebrows were crawling back on his head only a short moment before Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously and he was out of the library. 

"Winchester! You are such a dead man!" he yelled, going for Dean who he'd assumed had been responsible for this.

"Get her upstairs with the boys and don't go letting that idjit blow Dean up!" Bobby snapped, feeling like pounding his head in when he swore he kept hearing the little whine of a dog but shrugged it off when something slammed upstairs and he hoped it wasn't Dean.

**TBC (1 more time)**

**A/N: **_Okay, this took way longer than it should've but that flashback wasn't as easy to write as the others. So I deeply apologize for the wait for this update. Just one final thing to tie it up. Lots of brotherly fluff as Sam recovers (finally) and the boys settle the emotional setbacks from Carthage and more, some disgruntled Bobby and just how will Morgan react to getting tapped by Castiel? Dean finds out. Also, what is Bobby hearing? Come back for the final update to Memories and Demons._


	12. Epilogue

**Memories and Demons**

**Epilogue**

"Listen to me, you trench coat wearing Star Fairy Angel if you ever do the infamous finger tap crap on my boss to knock her out I won't have to Holy Oil your ass, Castiel. I will fry you out of existence and it'll take more than God, luck or whoever keeps bringing you back to do it again," Jack MacShayne was yelling furiously at an unperturbed Angel. "If you want Morgan moved and your buddy can't do it then you tell me or Kel and we will get the boss to move. You do not zap her!"

Not hearing what the Angel said in return, Dean Winchester was splitting his attention three ways. Sam was still sleeping, only this time he appeared to be resting more easily while Morgan's still pale face was not resting easily and that scared him since he knew she still had her own injuries to get over.

While he sat, watched, and hid from the irate mystic, Dean took the time to finally read over every single letter that his friend had ever written to him and a part of him was glad that his little brother was sleeping. He hated Sam to see him show real emotion and by the time he got to the final letter which was dated a few days after his deal had come due, he wasn't even trying to keep the tears from showing.

Morgan's letters had always included the same wit, sarcasm and the occasional jab at his inability to avoid trouble but in the last couple, the tone had changed as if she understood that it wasn't going to matter what she wrote by that point. The final letter as Dean read it again was several pages long, marred with ink removers, eraser stains and tear stains and now that he could feel their link again, it was also filled with draining emotions as she poured her heart and soul into this one.

Touching the letter, he reread the final paragraph for what he figured had to have been the sixteenth time… _'I know it's too late for this to mean anything…hell, I don't know if it would've meant anything to you if I had been able to stop that bloody deal from coming due but…I…I loved you, Dean and I'm sorry it all went wrong. I'll get you back some how, some way and I'll watch out for Sam as best I can considering things but…I wish to God that I could've spared either of you this pain. I wish you'd come to me after Cold Oak and not some bloody Crossroads demon. Dean, it's been three days since the deal came due and I just had to watch Sam put you in the ground. He'll break before it goes too much longer but I won't lose both of you and I will get you back for Sammy or I'll die trying.'_

"Just how many times did that almost happen then, Angel?" he asked quietly while wondering just what the hell Morgan had done in those four months.

A sound from Sam caught his attention, telling Dean that the peace and quiet was over even before he heard the first cry and his brother began to twist restlessly in his sleep.

"Here we go," he murmured, slipping the letter into his back pocket while the others he put away in the nightstand where he'd stashed Sam's bundle so his brother could read them later if he wanted.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Dean didn't move for a couple moments. He'd watched his brother wake up from a nightmare ever since he'd been a baby and knew that Sam had several reactions that could occur. He'd wake up very soon and be completely scared and confused or he'd stay locked in the damn nightmare until Dean brought him out of it or he'd wake up swinging. Of course there was also Dean's favorite reaction…when his little brother came out of his nightmare doing it all.

"Sam!" he snapped, ducking the fist that nearly clipped his jaw before grabbing it and then tried to keep his brother pinned down without hurting him until he could get him away. "Sammy, wake up before this wakes Morgan up and she kills me for thinking I'm hurting you."

"No…don't hurt…"

Swearing bitterly to himself as he'd forgotten that even hurt, sick, scared, in shock from everything that had been happening recently Sam was still wiry and strong and Dean struggled for control until he heard his brother's next word and things stopped for him.

"…Dean. Please, don't…I'm sorry I…Dean!" the frightened cry took every ounce of strength Dean had away when he slowly realized his brother was afraid of…him.

"On top of seeing and remembering the attack in Birkstown, the torture that Zachariah put him through, everything that's gone on with you including your friends dying in Carthage, that dick Zachariah also made him see you following a promise you were supposed to make on his cell phone the night Lucifer got out," Morgan told him softly.

Having picked up on Sam's emotional state, she'd woke up in time to see the first fist fly at Dean's head and found herself finally too weak to smooth these dreams out. "I guess dealing with the demon bitch and having that soon to be vaporized Angel zapping me, I can't reach him," she went on, pushing up to place a hand on Dean's rigid shoulder. "You need to face him, hotshot. This time you need to reach Sam fully and make him understand that everything that he things you blame him for isn't true. Make him see that he's still your little brother. The little brother that you risked getting your head kicked in by a zombie just to make sure Sam was safe," Morgan paused before adding softly. "Tell him, Dean. Tell him that he will always be the little brother you looked after, the one you beat up bullies for and the one who got his ass handed to him by those bikers in Modesto after you scammed them in a pool game to make money to send to Sam…anonymously."

Having let go of Sam at his last cry of pain and fear, Dean finally tossed caution to the wind. Latching onto his confused and frightened sibling when he went to lunge off the bed, his hand grabbed Sam's belt to haul him back while he shifted to stare at Morgan. "Okay, how'd the hell did you find out about that?" he groaned at her mild look, swearing to find out just what the hell else she'd been doing behind his back. "Would it have killed you to lend a hand _before_ I landed in the damn ER?"

"_Riiight_ and then have you whine and bitch about having a girl bail you outta trouble _again_," she replied, hearing something that sounded like a shotgun being fired downstairs. "Besides, who do you think kept them from killing you after they beat you unconscious, broke your damn arm and was going to roadhaul your cocky but still cute butt?"

Offering her a dark look, Dean gave a quick jerk to pull Sam back onto the bed before putting a hand flat on his chest. "Sammy!" he snapped, hoping to calm the younger man down but it seemed like the harder tone just made him fight more and he felt a slap to the back of his head. "I swear, I'm going to hit you one of these days and take my chances with that mystic!"

"No, because I'll break your arm if you try that and try loosing the attitude and just be Dean for once with him lately," Morgan snapped, again hearing a weapon being discharged only recognizing Kelly's Magnum this time. "He's scared, Dean and he's got a lifetime of bad memories sacking him right now. Be his damn brother or I will bitchslap you all over this goddamn house."

Recognizing the tone as the one she used when he'd pissed her off, Dean decided it was time to focus on his brother when suddenly the bedroom door banged open to allow the sound of skittering claws and the playful yips of what sounded like a very small dog…if one could see it.

"What the hell…" Dean stared while giving up the plan of holding Sam down and just sat on him fully while trying to see what the hell had just tore into their room as the barks made his skin crawl and Morgan's eyes rolled up in exasperation. "Morgan…what is…"

"Shit! Where the hell is that damn devil mutt?" Jack skidded into the room with a small ball of energy pulsing on his hand as he struggled to look all over the room. "Ah-ha! Hold still you little ball of demonic energy…" he tossed the ball then swore as what he was throwing it at seemed to lunge across the bed, running over both Winchesters to escape out the door past Castiel who spun around to give chase but seemed to slip on something and fall. "I hate those things."

Morgan felt like groaning, hiding and killing Jack all at the same time when Dean grabbed for her wrist, an odd look of frustration, caution, and concern on his face. "Don't ask. I'll take care of it," she told him, going to pull free when he jerked her closer. "Dean…"

"Did that or did that not just sound like a very small Hellhound?" he asked tightly, memories still raw of those things ripping into him but they sure hadn't sounded like what he'd just heard. "Is there a Hellhound in this house?" he demanded. "Why is there a Hellhound in Bobby's house?"

"Good question, luv," she decided to agree with him while giving the disgruntled mystic a look that promised death soon. "Remind me to find that out…after I kill Jack who promised he'd take care of that little issue."

Hearing a shotgun fire again, Jack groaned. "I did take care of it!" he argued. "That one…I missed that one and it's sort of…well attached itself to…" he coughed into his hand. "Bobby but don't worry cause as soon as I get her within range I'm burning the pesky little critter."

"Little?" Dean snorted, placing a hand flat on Sam's face to shove it back down while making sure he kept his weight on him. "Hellhounds aren't…" he blinked at Morgan's smirk but before he could ask what the joke was Bobby could be heard shouting. "You are going to tell me all about this, right?"

"Sure, Dean…just as soon as I deal with this," Morgan was quick to pull her hand free, gave him a quick kiss of encouragement, ran a hand down Sam's face to try to settle him down some before grabbing her mystic by the ear. "Get down there before Bobby and Kelly shoot this place up and Angel Boy! You ever touch me again and you are so toasted!"

"Sammy, remind me again why I don't piss her off?" he muttered, finally able to turn his attention to his no longer struggling little brother. "You awake or are you gonna try to cave my skull in again if I move?"

Gasping for breath, Sam stared up at his brother for a long moment as if having trouble recognizing him until… "Dean?"

"Finally," Dean groused, being careful when he moved in case Sam moved too quickly but his brother remained perfectly still as if he was waiting for something. "Sammy? You with me or what? Talk to me, little brother."

"Why?" the tone was dull and mostly listless and worried Dean almost as much as when he reached for the blanket he'd had as a kid. "He said it was all my fault. My fault you got hurt all the time, my fault you lost Morgan, my fault I kill anyone we know, my fault Jess died, my fault Jo and Ellen died and…"

Pinching his nose in frustration, Dean vowed to kill that Angel at the first moment he could. "Sammy, we had this talk. Zachariah lies. You can't listen to a word he says or…" he drew off when he caught the way his brother was chewing his lip. "Dad said that to you."

"It was like I was there but not there, Dean," Sam told him quietly, keeping his eyes on the threadbare blanket. "I could hear Dad, I felt him in control of my body but the only time I could really fight back is when he tried to hurt you. Why did he do that?" he asked, not really wanting an answer but needing someone to tell him. "Did he ever love us?"

That question stopped Dean cold and left him with a very uneasy feeling in his stomach. "Sam…" he sighed, standing to move toward the window. "I…I can't answer that because I don't know. I know that when you were born, before the fire, Dad loved us. After the fire, after Mom died…he changed," Dean had a hard time recalling a lot of his childhood before that night but the memories he did have were good ones and he wished to God his brother had known that father instead of the one he did grow up with. "Sammy, I know Dad's spirit, or whatever the hell that was, probably put some crap in your head that messed you up but I need you to listen to me because I swear if you make me do this one more damn time I will…" he winced at the mild slap he felt. "I will kill our friend if she doesn't quit doing that."

It was the serious, more thoughtful tone in Dean's voice that started making Sam pay closer attention as he sat up on his bed but didn't try to stand yet. He noticed that his brother was tense but not the way he had been after Carthage even as he caught that way Dean favored his left shoulder.

Sam had his memories of Birkstown. He remembered everything from the second he lost sight of Dean and Morgan to the bragging that Zachariah did to every damn injury that was inflicted to finally feeling his father's spirit take control of his body. He knew that more than likely the memories were left as an added injury since by now the bald Angel knew how to hurt both Winchesters and Sam was more than aware of how he carried his guilt. His only question was how was his brother handling things.

"Sam, we covered most of this in Oregon so I hope you still remember it because we are not going through this every damn time we have a fight, or something goes wrong," Dean began, moving enough that he could watch his brother from the corner of his corner without actually having to face him fully. "You're my brother and we're family. Nothing will ever change that and I told you once that if we were going to go down then we'd do it together. Nothing in our lives has ever or will ever be your fault…"

"I got you hurt how many times, Dean?" Sam interrupted, more awake now he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear his brother's opinions. "I don't just mean by Dad. How many hunts did you get hurt on because I screwed up and how many of those did you take the fall so Dad didn't jump down my throat? It was because Dad went after me that Morgan got hurt and had to leave you. I shot you threw a damn wall in the asylum, I left you alone and you almost got killed by that scarecrow God, I shot you and you went to…"

"Sam, stop," was all Dean had to say to bring the halting litany of sins that Sam felt he'd done to a halt. "Damn, we did one hellava number on your self confidence didn't we?"

Blinking, Sam stared at Dean in confusion. "No, you were always…"

"Yeah, I was always there to protect you physically Sam but it's pretty clear that I screwed up in the area of making sure Dad didn't screw you up emotionally," Dean sighed, hating all this touchy-feely crap but accepting it was his only way to help his brother. "We don't have time right now for me to go through the list of things you think you've done wrong so let's just skip to the major ones right now. I got hurt because Dad was pissed off when he walked in the door and I didn't back down when he threw a fit over you slipping out. I took the beating so he'd have lost some of the rage before he got to you because if I'd've known then about those bruises on you, he'd have died the second he shoved you into the motel again."

Taking a deep breath, Dean run a nervous hand through his hair before finally turning to walk back to Sam but slowed the second he saw the younger man tense. "Sammy, I never laid a hand on you…okay, except for a few times recently and you gotta admit you deserved a couple of those shots, and I'm not going to now," he declared, trying not to let Sam see how much that mistrust hurt. "I am going to ground you for that stunt you pulled in West Virginia because you had no plan on surviving that, did you?"

"I…I knew that Lucifer would bring me back so…" Sam's eyes lowered to the floor to avoid his brother until he felt a firm hand lift his face up as Dean knelt in front of him. "I couldn't let you and Morgan be hurt again, Dean. It was the only way I could make up for what Dad did to her, what he did to you, what he cost you."

A sound that Dean recognized as something breaking made him wince but he didn't let on despite the pain he felt. "Sammy, you didn't get me hurt. You didn't make Dad hurt Morgan and you didn't cost me anything. Dad did all of that himself and before you say what's probably on the tip of your tongue and you really set her off, Morgan would've defended you from anyone but that's not the reason Dad hurt her and you know it. You know that Dad and Morg were headed for a confrontation sooner of later because that's why you got in Dad's face which, by the way, was so not a good thing to do," he recognized the pain in his little brother's eyes as the same emotion Sam had that summer. "Why didn't you tell me then, Sam?"

"Would you have believed me, Dean?" his brother asked quietly, again noticing that Dean wasn't using his left arm that much. "Dad had already fed you a pack of lies and you were hurt. I couldn't even say her name without you flying off the handle at me so I…I didn't. I just wrote to her but then you know that don't you?"

"Yeah, thanks for telling me though because I didn't exactly react well to finding out that my little brother was writing to her and that she wrote back to you but…" Dean stopped when he felt Sam tense, shaking his head. "I know she did, Sammy. Bobby gave me the letters and I have to admit, the nosy little brat knew a hell of a lot about what we did and she had some interesting…opinions of your choices," he coughed with a smirk that he was careful to hide.

"I know she didn't like Jessica, Dean," Sam replied, remembering the first time he began to suspect that he wasn't completely on his own at Stanford. "Morgan's sweet, friendly and a wonderful friend but when she doesn't like you…she makes you know that too and Jess knew that she wasn't liked."

Keeping his opinion on that matter to himself, Dean made a mental note to show his friend his appreciation in watching over Sammy but right then something his brother said rang a bell. "Sammy, how did we know for sure that Lucifer would bring you back?" he asked cautiously, praying he was thinking the wrong thing when he felt his heart clench the moment that Sam went to move away from him. "Sam, look at me. What the hell did you do and when?"

Only managing three steps before his leg buckled, Sam felt his brother's hands catching him before he found himself placed in the chair that Bobby had moved into the room. "I had to know and I figured after Carthage it wouldn't have mattered to you so…what was that?" he missed the flash of horror that passed over Dean's face but didn't miss the loud sound of breaking glass a second before Bobby was heard yelling about doing more damage that those other idjits. "Dean?"

"Sammy, you do know that Morgan can either read or hear every damn thing you say don't you?" he asked carefully, swearing he'd keep his temper even as he was looking at Sam closer for the first time in weeks.

He expected his brother to be pale and drawn after what he'd been through but for the first time he noticed that Sam avoided even casual contact with him and then he recalled the one mark on Sam's chest that neither he nor Bobby had been able to figure out and he felt weak at the knees. "What did you do?" he asked again, only this time with more force.

"I…took the demon killing knife and…" Sam stopped at the strangled like sound his brother made, looking up and not sure what expression he'd been expecting, the look of sick grief reflected in Dean's eyes wasn't it. "I mean…I'd screwed up with the Colt. Jo and Ellen are dead because of me and you…"

"And I what?" Dean's voice was strained but not from the fury he knew his brother thought it was. It was strained from not screaming at himself for allowing it to get this damn bad with Sam. "Where the hell was I when you decided to stick a knife in your chest?"

"Passed out drunk in the library, I think," Sam shrugged, waiting for the blow to come and when nothing did he finally lifted his eyes to find his brother watching him. "Dean? It didn't matter because it didn't…"

Fighting both rage and panic, Dean's reaction was natural for him even as he struggled to cushion it when he grabbed Sam by the arms to shove him back against the wall with enough force that a picture hanging on it rattled. "It didn't matter?" he gritted, seeing that description in his mind. Even closing his eyes didn't remove the image of his emotionally distraught little brother alone in the junkyard hating himself while the one person he needed was wallowing in his own pity inside the house. He could see Sam take that damn demon killing knife that Dean had given him back and… "Even after Oregon, after I told you that I didn't want you dead, you still think I wouldn't care if you killed yourself?" he demanded, forcing Sam to meet his eyes. "You're my brother, Sam! Yeah, we have problems but then you name me any family who doesn't. I screwed up and I let everyone come between us when I should've been focusing on you. When I started doing that again this crap blew up and you think I want you dead again! I don't want you dead, Sammy. I never did!"

"You shoved me away again!" this time when Sam yelled back, there was no hate or anger or mistrust. Just a confused, scared kid who was trying to cling to the last thing he had that he loved. "I messed up and Jo and Ellen died! You could've died! All because I was stupid and didn't kill myself after you died! I tried so many damn times, Dean but it never worked! Not even before Lucifer was free, I couldn't die right!" he shouted, not aware of the tears that were falling or when his fingers reached out to grip Dean's arms but not to free himself, only to hold on tighter. "Then you came back and nothing was right! You wouldn't let me in and Ruby kept saying I was too weak. Just like I was too weak to save our friends and you hate me for Jo's death. So because you have to be big brother and pretend that you don't want me dead, you shove me away well what the hell's the difference in that, Dean?"

"I didn't shove you away because I blamed you for Jo's death, Sam!" Dean snapped, ignoring the warning slap he felt as the emotions both brothers had buried recently poured out. "I shoved you away because I'm sick to death of failing you!"

"Well, that should shut 'em both up for a couple seconds," Morgan decided from her vantage point on the bottom step.

Castiel's face was grim as he looked around. "Isn't this wrong to be listening in on Sam and Dean's private conversation?" he asked, looking down as Bobby slapped him in the arm.

"We ain't listening in on them," the older hunter scoffed, still eyeing the thing on Morgan's lap warily. "Hell, they can probably hear those two damn idjits in Cuba with the way they'll yellin'. Now, tell me what I'm supposed to do with that thing," he complained, knowing he needed to keep the young woman's mind off of upstairs because if Bobby knew one thing it was the next thud, crash, or slam that she heard would send Morgan right up after Dean.

Right then, Dean Winchester was silently cussing himself out for letting slip what he just did, especially when he caught the way his younger brother's eyes widened in confusion and knew he'd just opened the door to the biggest damn chick-flick moment of his life.

"Fail me?" Sam stared, not understanding what his brother meant when he suddenly groaned in pain that decided to remind him of why he was hurt in the first place. "Damn," he muttered, starting to just lean against the wall he was still against when he felt a firm arm go around his shoulders to support him as he was eased back on the bed. "Dean, what're you…you've never failed me."

"Sammy, I've been failing you since the night I broke into your apartment in Stanford," Dean sighed, leaning up against the wall next to his brother's bed to watch him wearily. "I failed you by not keeping you out of this life. I failed to protect you from Dad. I failed to keep you safe even though I swore to you that so long as I was with you nothing bad would happen to you and I failed that big time when I sent you into that damn diner alone and you…died."

It took Sam a few moments to make it past the walls that Dean had grown so good at putting up since his return from Hell to see the shaken big brother that had always been there for him and still blamed himself when anything bad would happen. "Dean, you can't protect me all the time. Hell, neither of us could stop this from happening if what you saw in the past is true. I was screwed before I was born. You did everything you could to keep me safe. If you hadn't, you could've just did what Dad told you to do and killed me…Dean!" he made a grab for his brother before he could move away. Only the sudden twinge of pain that made him hiss kept Dean from pulling away to avoid the innocent puppy dog eyes of his little brother who still didn't understand things.

"Sam, I would've killed myself the second after if I would've done that," he replied in a quiet voice, giving in to those damn eyes that he'd taught Sam to use so long ago and sitting next to him. "Ever since I came back and realized how far things had gone wrong for you it's been one failure after another," Dean began, looking at his hands instead of the brother he'd fought so hard to protect. "Now, every time we fail to stop Lucifer it's another time I've failed to protect you from him because, Sammy, the only thing that keeps me going in all this hell is the thought that I have to find a way to beat him in order to keep you safe. I can't let him take you, not after everything else I messed up for you. I cannot lose my baby brother to the goddamn Devil," he vowed firmly, voice deep with emotions he swore he wouldn't let out but felt the wall crack at the simple touch of a shaking hand. "Sammy,"

"I thought you still hated me for starting all this and…then when Jo and Ellen died…" Sam stopped as flashes of that explosion reminded him of his failure and the still livid bruise up on his brother's forehead reminded him of how close Dean had come to being killed. He'd started to move his hand away from Dean's shoulder when a hand reached back to grasp it.

Turning his head so he could look at the younger Winchester, Dean caught all the pain, the guilt, the confusion and self-hate that his brother was feeling and ached for the innocence they'd both had that night in Stanford. "Ellen and Jo were friends, Sam. Like Bobby, they were family and they'll be missed and mourned but," he hesitated before throwing in the proverbial towel and deciding he'd call do-over later. "…you're my brother. You're who I will go to my grave looking after and not because I promised to look after you but because…because I love you. If you ever make me repeat that out loud again this month I will so hurt you," he threatened gruffly, seeing the tears shining in Sam's eyes and with a sigh reached over to grip the back of his neck to pull him into his arms. "Y'know that you're one of the few people in my life that I love, right? Even if you are a pain in my ass most of the…damn it, Morgan! Stop doing that!"

Hiding his smile, Sam was cautious about returning the gesture until he felt Dean's arms tighten more while the long fingers that still gripped his neck in a familiar move from his childhood squeezed gently in silent assent. Finally, after so long and so much fear Sam gave in to the crash of emotions the recent weeks and injuries had brought to turn into the support and silent comfort his older brother offered. "I…I was so scared that Zachariah would hurt you or…" his words broke as he remembered too vividly being strapped to that table and only Dean's arms kept him still.

"I know, Sammy," he murmured, swallowing the lump he felt in his throat to move carefully and sit up against the headboard while being certain to keep an arm tight around his now silently sobbing little brother as the memories poured out. "Zachariah and his pals aren't going to hurt us, Sammy," Dean promised quietly, vowing to at least keep that promise because he'd kill the next Angel who even looked at his baby brother. "It's okay, Sammy. You and me, we're gonna beat both sides of this mess, get Bobby outta that chair and maybe convince Morg to tell me just what else she's been doing behind my back."

Moving slowly so it didn't disturb Sam who had just started to resettle into a half sleep, Dean managed to snag the worn blanket to pull it up enough until he watched his brother's fingers grasp it tight. With a weary smile, Dean gently carded his fingers through hair that he'd just noticed seemed to have fallen back into the way his brother used to wear it. "Sammy?" he waited until he was certain his brother was relaxed enough into a doze to asked what he'd been wondering. "Those months I was…gone, did you…see Morgan?"

"No," Sam yawned, unconsciously pulling the blanket up closer to him while he tightened his grip on his brother and then added sleepily. "Ruby did though."

"Oh, well that's…come again?" Dean hadn't been expecting that announcement, paying closer attention when he lightly tapped a finger against Sam's forehead. "Ruby saw Morgan and she was still breathing afterwards?" he found that hard to believe given how much hate his friend had for a normal girl like Jessica.

Sam yawned again. He was too sleepy and still in pain to be cautious about what he said to his brother about this. "It was shortly after I'd started to let Ruby teach me…stuff," he seemed to tense at this since he knew Dean still didn't like the mention of his powers but was surprised to just feel the gentle squeeze on his neck. "I'd messed up in an exorcism and had gotten hurt pretty bad. I didn't want Ruby stitching me up and I…think I passed out while trying to do it myself cause when I woke up, everything was stitched almost like you'd do it but the pain was gone. Ruby said she'd been trying to do the stitches when she found herself flung across the room with a knife to her throat."

"That's my girl," Dean grinned, knowing that sounded more like he'd have pictured Morgan's reaction to the demon bitch who had tricked his brother. "Why was she still breathing?" that he couldn't figure out then he saw Sam's small small.

"Actually, I asked Ruby that cause it didn't take me long to figure out who she must've encountered," he shifted closer to Dean as his body relaxed. "I kind of always knew either Morgan or you were watching me when I was in school because if I ever had trouble or something came up…it mysteriously went away and then after you…went away," he had trouble saying that since it still bothered him that his brother had given his life for him. "Even though I was falling apart a lot of the time, it was like I still knew I wasn't alone. After Ruby told me about that then I knew she was still watching out for me and somehow I knew it would all be okay cause I knew that if I couldn't get you back that if anyone could it would be Morg."

Making sure to keep moving his hand either through his brother's hair or over his shoulder, Dean nodded. "Yeah, pity the Angels beat you both to it," he sighed, wondering about something. "What trouble did you have at school?" he wanted to know and figured with Sam half asleep he'd be able to get the answers out of him.

"Ah, the usual," Sam yawned, not wanting to sleep since he was still leery about Lucifer invading his dreams and because he wanted to keep hearing his brother's strong, comforting voice. "New guy on campus, got a full ride but still could hardly afford anything, the usual bully crap…Dean, you break that lamp Bobby will kill you," he warned as if he knew his brother's temper was spiking. "I handled it mostly but after they broke my arm one night, they seemed to leave me alone from then on."

"Broke…your arm?" Dean nearly choked on the words but made himself stay still and keep his touch light despite the fury beginning to burn. "What the…why the hell didn't you call me or…?"

That question immediately received a tired but still plain bitch face reaction from Sam as he rolled his eyes at his brother. "I'd left, Dad said to stay gone, so why would I call to say that I'd gotten beat up?" he countered then frowned a little. "Truthfully, when they stopped bothering me I sort of thought maybe you had found out but…"

"Sam, if I had ever learned that some high class trash had bothered you I would've been pounding on your damn dorm room door and they would've looked like most bullies did who messed with you," Dean snorted, gently nudging his shoulder in a teasing manner. "You still should've…"

"Actually, that would've been the night you landed your cocky butt in the ER up in Modesto after you scammed those bikers out of their money," Morgan announced from the bedroom door. "You two were hell to keep track of when you weren't together."

"Yeah, well if you would've let someone know that…what the hell is that?" Dean had turned his head to look at his smirking friend when his gaze landed on the little furry bundle in her arms and he wasn't sure if his skin should crawl or if he should laugh.

Peeking out from the crook of Morgan's arms was a tiny furry head with a bright pink bow attached to spiky fur. The furry critter looked like Sam's stuffed monkey had when his brother had been curious about their Dad's razor at age five but it was the bright happy looking glowing red eyes that really alarmed the elder Winchester.

"Is that…is that a…" he wasn't sure what it was and he was almost afraid to ask even though Morgan didn't look upset as she kept the wiggling little thing from leaping onto the bed. "Angel, this is my nice calm tone, what is that supposed to be?"

"Dean, that's your getting upset and trying to hide it tone," Sam offered, yelping when the hand that was still on his neck squeezed harder. "Looks like a Yorkie…with some really wicked eyes."

Giving both brothers a disgusted look, Morgan sat on Dean's bed with the furry little thing but kept a tight grip on it despite its best attempts to go to Sam. "Actually, when Jack sort of transported the rest of Meg's pets outta here he missed this one and she sort of got into the house and attached herself to Bobby," she explained, glancing down curiously. "Jack's calling it a Hell-Yorkie. I think I'll name her…Cassie."

Eyes shooting up to see the amusement in his friend, Dean was considering a response when he heard his brother trying to cover a laugh. "Oh, you think that's funny, Geek boy?" he asked dryly, seeing the connection. "I guess that's a thinly veiled reference to my brief relationship awhile back?"

"If it's thinly veiled then I guess I'd better make a stronger attempt next time," Morgan replied, letting the dog down but kept a hand on the scruff of its neck. "Want me to tell you about the snake Kel has back home that I named after some chippie you had a fling with in Indiana?"

Sam had to laugh. Between the too sweet tone he recognized only to well in Morgan to the way Dean had tensed and was muttering under his breath, he had to laugh and accepted the light slap to his head. "Sorry, Dean. She just threatened Jessica. This is the first time I've ever seen anyone name a snake or a…is that a hellhound, after your girlfriends."

"She's a Hell-Yorkie and I did not threaten the bleach blond Barbie wannabe," Morgan objected, letting the dog go just to see what would happen and wasn't shocked when it made a straight shot for the other bed. "She's harmless, Dean," she told him upon seeing him tense. "I don't know what the hell anyone down there was thinking when they bred a hellhound with a damn Yorkie but this one loves to have her belly scratched and…"

The little hellhound had jumped up to vigorously lick Dean's face before running down to curl next to Sam's legs. "You know what I said about getting warned before being violated by Demon tongue?" Dean coughed, wiping his face while throwing a glare between his smirking friend and the little brother who was now laughing fully. "That goes for demon dogs too! Get this thing!"

"Jack's going to take her back with the rest of them when he leaves," Morgan assured him, relieved that Sam seemed more relaxed than he had. "You alright, Sammy?" she asked, keeping an eye on his brother in case Dean decided to pull some stunt.

Sam could tell his brother was planning some kind of retaliation for the little hellhound so he began to move away until a firm hand caught his shoulder which was Dean's way of telling him to stay still. "Still tired and the pain's still there," he admitted, noticing that the young woman still seemed pale and that while his brother's left arm seemed to be bothering him Morgan was favoring the right side. "You guys doing okay?" he asked, catching the brief but telling look exchanged between his brother and his friend. "What happened to your shoulder, Dean?"

Pushing the little helldog away even as she was trying to crawl onto his lap, Dean's attention was drawn to his brother at the question and he caught the look Morgan shot him. "Nothing, Sammy. I just hurt it on…something," he hedged, hoping he could get Sam off this subject and the one way he knew he could was by throwing his concern onto someone else. "Morgan's shoulder got stabbed."

"You are going to die," she hissed, moving to sit on the other side of the bed even as Sam's head was turning toward her. "I got stabbed saving your brother's stupid butt and he got shot by my now former adopted brother," Morgan explained, throwing Dean a familiar look before smiling down at Sam. "Of course we won't mention his other stupid plan to…"

In one fluid motion, Dean had dumped the little furry ball of hell-Yorkie into his amused brother's arms before he was off the bed, around it to snatch Morgan up into his arms and back her against the nearest wall. "You really want to discuss stupid plans, babe?" he challenged with a tight grin, seeing those same blue eyes flash in warning even as he felt her arms go around his neck. "Cause I seem to remember you getting in the face of the goddamn King of Hell! Which was so not a good idea when you don't have the power to handle him!" he snapped, still recalling his absolute terror over seeing that. "I swear, between you and Sam I won't survive the damn Apocalypse because you two will give me a freakin' heart attack!"

"Right and all of your bloody ideas come out so well!" Morgan shot back, feeling his temper spark as all of the recent concerns, revelations, and surprises finally sank in and Dean reacted in typical Dean-style. "Don't you even think about…" her warning was cut off by a heat-searing kiss that took them both by surprise.

Dean, for his part, had just intended to shut his friend up before Sam got any more ideas of what had been going on but then it was like every emotion he'd ever buried, hidden, or shied away from with her just hit and he gave in to the desire he'd been holding back since he'd been sixteen.

"This is what I deal with when they're together," Sam told the Hell-Yorkie with a typical Sammy-eyeroll as he rolled to his side to watch this encounter with a smirk that was too much like his brother's until he finally chose to clear his throat. "Hey! You two want to go someplace else and make out or should I take little Cassie here and go find Bobby?" he called in a louder tone, figuring something he said would register eventually but it wasn't until the bed moved under his readjusted weight that he felt the slight tug.

"You get off that bed and I will personally make sure you stay put, Sam," Morgan warned a half second after Dean broke the kiss in order to snap an order to his brother. "Get off!" she pushed Dean back a step. "That still won't keep me from telling Sam about those bikers in Modesto or anything else you've done, Dean," she teased, moving to go past him when on a sudden instinct she turned to pat his cheek in a way like she often used to do to Sam. "I won't always be around to save your cocky ass, Winchester."

Whistling for the Hell-Yorkie to follow her, she paused in the door to look back. "Bobby said to tell you to follow your baby brother's example and stay in the damn bed, hotshot," Morgan's smile was wicked as she sent a thought only Dean could hear before adding. "You're the one who had the flashback from hell shoved into what brains you still have left and I'll just go make sure Jack takes Cassie before Bobby remembers she's a hellhound."

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling and trying to count to one hundred, Dean swore he'd wait until his brother was asleep and he could lose the mystic in the house before he throttled his friend but he knew he was losing the battle, especially when he noticed Sam fighting to keep a straight face. "Shut up, Sam," he warned, giving his brother a pointed look.

"Dean, you remember what you said to me about Sarah?" Sam was struggling not to smile but the darker his brother's features got the harder it was for him. Waiting until Dean shot him a blank look only a second before the question registered and he must've recalled the day five years previous because he narrowed sharp green eyes. "Dean…marry that girl."

"Go. To. Sleep." Dean muttered, but after Sam laughed and rolled back over to do just that he did let a small smile show. "Maybe one day, Sammy," he murmured, running a hand over Sam's shoulder to give a final reassurance that he was safe before stepping from the room to find Jack MacShayne leaning in the hallway scowling. "That scowl for me or something else?"

Jack could have replied like he'd been tempted but didn't feel like getting fried so he opted for a shrug. "The boss's final orders were to make sure Lucifer can't touch your brother's dreams anymore and that's what I did. A simple spell that not even Lucifer himself can get around unless he wants his butt kicked again by my big brother," he replied, seeing Dean's relief even if he didn't speak it. "Now, I have to go take that mutt from Hell to my store in New York before Singer decides to adopt it."

"That's scary," Dean decided, considering something. "If it's a hellhound…hell-Yorkie, whatever, how can it be seen?" he asked. "I thought you can only see a hellhound when it's after you."

"Normally," the mystic conceded, going on after he made another check on the younger hunter. "There is a spell that can allow them to be seen by the regular eye. The boss knows the spell and she got tired of being the only one who could see the damn mutt…Cassie, huh?"

Sliding a dark look toward the mystic, Dean stalked downstairs while Jack laughed. Wiping his palms on his jeans, he ignored the edge his nerves had taken to catch Bobby's concerned look. "Sam's sleeping," he assured the older man before looking toward the front door.

"The longer we stay, the harder it'll be," Kelly Robinson was saying when the front door opened and he immediately got the silent message that shot from Dean's eyes. "Not that it's my decision or anything," he muttered, backing off.

Standing on the porch to gaze out at the junkyard that she'd made Jack protect with every spell he knew, Morgan remained silent even as she felt her friend step behind her. "You know I can't stay."

"I know you're still hurt and if you leave here you'll just go back to getting hurt more," Dean replied quietly, laying a hand on the small of her back to feel her tense. "You'll still be a target to them, especially since you made no bones that you don't care what happens to you in order to protect us," he waited until she had relaxed under his hand to go on. "Stay at Bobby's until Sam's back on his feet, at least. It'll save that mystic the trouble of constantly popping in to check on him."

"Low blow, Dean," she murmured, knowing that he'd thrown Sam in because he knew that while she could refuse him most times it was harder for Morgan to refuse Sam when he was sick or hurt. "We'd kill each other in a bleedin' day if I stay much longer because you know too much now."

Moving slowly, he gently turned her to face him but this time Dean made certain she didn't feel boxed in. "Oh, I have questions. I figure if I don't push you'll tell me eventually about all the things you know about me and the things that you did for both Sam and me that I don't know about," he told her, curling a strand of hair around his finger like he used to do. "Stay with us a few more days, Angel," he whispered against her ear, letting his lips kiss her neck and knowing he'd won before he felt the soft oath she thought at him a second before he felt something else slap him hard in the back. "Hey!"

"What I tell you about trying to kiss that girl, ya idjit!" Bobby snapped after he'd wheeled himself onto the porch with Kelly leaning in the door. "I swear I can't leave you two alone for a damn second without you trying to kill one another or…"

"Bobby, I'm not sixteen anymore," Dean argued, throwing the mercenary a look that promised a painful death while Morgan giggled behind him. "Morg and I can't pretty much do anything we want without you trying to hit me with a frying pan."

"Not in my damn house, boy!" the older hunter snapped, using the tone he knew would still work on Dean. "Morgan stays in my house, you watch your step, your hands and…"

Castiel had stepped out to see Dean spluttering in a way that he hadn't seen before while Morgan had turned to throw Kelly a well known look. "I take it he doesn't want you doing what you encouraged me to do when you took me to that den of…?"

"When the hell'd you take Castiel to a brothel?" Bobby demanded, slapping a hand down on the arm of his chair. "Dean…" he started to glower a second before the door slapped open to allow the scampering Hell-Yorkie to run out with Jack giving chase. "One of you help that mystic get that dog outta my house!"

"Cassie isn't a bad little doggie, Bobby," Morgan objected, grinning as Dean growled. "What? I could've named her Lisa."

"You are a jealous little girl, have I ever told you that?" Dean snapped, considering the best path to take that would find the happily yipping little creature and take him close to the old Mustang.

Whirling in mid-step, Morgan shot him a look of disbelief. "I'm jealous?" she scoffed. "If I was that jealous of your poor taste in women, Winchester I could've burned you after that week in Indiana with the yoga girl or…"

Seeing Dean lunge only to have Morgan dodge his grab in order to go find the new little Hellhound, Bobby felt like pounding his head in. "Dean! Don't even you think of taking her near that old Mustang either!"

"Get a life, Bobby and quit ruining mine!" came the retort a second before a harsh oath was heard and a loud crash. "Morgan! Get this…dog offa me!"

"God save me from Angels, Demons, and these idjits!" Bobby Singer groaned, wheeling back into the house to see Sam in the door. "Boy, do I even have to tell you where to get your butt back to?"

"No, sir," Sam replied softly, backing up but going into the library instead of upstairs. "You know she won't stay."

Bobby did know that since he'd already had this fight with Morgan earlier. "She feels that she can protect you two idjits better if she wasn't with you," the older man sighed, figuring the fight that would cause if Dean found out. Though right then, he just had to worry about what might have fallen on the older Winchester.

"Who trips on an exhaust system, Dean?" Morgan asked a few moments later as she helped Dean sit down in the library. "That's worse than Sam losing his shoe in a gutter after touching that bloody rabbits foot."

Groaning at the memory, Sam tried to pretend he was asleep on the sofa seat by the window but opened an eye to see his brother's frown at him.

"Sam's luck was all bad that time after he lost that thing and why the hell didn't you shoot Bella after she shot Sammy?" Dean groused, refusing to mention that he wouldn't have tripped over anything if that little hell terror hadn't jumped out in front of him.

"I did try to shoot the bitch, hotshot," Morgan snapped, remembering what it was like to handle both Winchesters. "She was of more use alive…until she stole the damn Colt and got you arrested by the Fed from Hell. Then I would've killed her if the hellhounds hadn't beat me to her," a sudden dark look crossed her face briefly as if remembering the next event that week and she went to turn away when a hand caught hers. "Dean."

"You couldn't have stopped it, babe," Dean told her, catching his brother's worried gaze. "I made the choice and the deal. It's over and it's time to move on and stop the Apocalypse before the world's taken over by Hell-Yorkies."

Sam snorted, burying his face in the pillow before another pillow was thrown at him. "Sorry, it's just Dean has such an aversion to Yorkies and now…sorry, sorry, Dean."

"Yeah, you'll be sorry, little brother," Dean assured him but smiled, relieved to see Sam more at ease than he had been since all of this had started. "Morgan won't always be here to protect you from your awesome big brother."

"No, but Sammy has my new cell number programmed," Morgan chose to tell him, seeing his head jerk up at that and shrugging. "What? Play your cards rights and I may give it to you."

Looking between them, Dean decided to wait until he knew Sam was fully asleep and Bobby was in bed to get even for that when he caught her thoughts. "Stay tonight?" he asked as he eased down to sit on the floor in front of the sofa seat since he didn't want Sam to be alone yet for long periods.

Considering this, Morgan finally nodded. "Tonight," she agreed, meeting deep green as she looked into his eyes when he held out a hand to her. "I want it to be different, Dean."

"It will be one day, babe," he assured her, understanding what she meant. "One day, after we've told both Heaven and Hell where to go, it'll be different. Until then, all I ask is that you trust me to do what's right for you and Sammy," Dean could feel the tension as she let him settle her on the floor next to him. "You don't have to protect us all the time, especially since you've painted an Angel target on your back."

"You should talk, hotshot," Morgan murmured, glancing up to check to see that Sam had finally fallen back to sleep. "They'll keep coming after him," she remarked softly, wishing there was a way to protect Sam from this. "You too."

Dean rested his head back on the seat with a weary sigh. "They can try but I'm not saying yes and Lucifer ain't wearing my little brother like a suit," he declared firmly, leaning over to lift her face in his palm. "Just like they won't ever touch you again."

"What's up for you two?" Morgan decided to change the topic since she knew that her friend couldn't keep that promise. "Aside from saving the world from the terrors of Yorkies?"

"Cute, babe," Dean snorted, relaxing more when he heard his brother's breathing was even and not strained like it had been recently on nights when he could get Sam to sleep. "Bobby got a message from a woman Dad let watch me and Sammy once. Her daughter's being tormented by either a vengeful spirit or a poltergeist so I guess once Sam's fully on his feet we'll head there to check into that," he replied, feeling her nod and didn't let on when he felt her snuggle against his chest. "What about you?"

Realizing how hard it was for him to ask that question, Morgan decided against mentioning the fact that she was going to have Jack find that bald son of a bitch and fry him in Holy Oil and just told Dean something that Kelly had informed her of earlier. "Kel said one of the local boys in Massachusetts bought an old house without checking it out and not it may or may not be inhabited by either a ghost or a witch," she rolled her eyes at the stupidity of the boys Kelly hired. "I'll probably go up there to check it out…unless I get word that a couple hunters landed their cocky butts in trouble again."

"You know, if you're gonna keep trying to bail us out of trouble it would be a lot easier if you just stayed with us," Dean decided, gauging his time a little better this time around or so he thought.

"Why when this way's worked so well for the last fifteen years?" Morgan had felt him move and guessed what would come next, grinning a little.

"Saves wear and tear on both that mystic and my nerves if I know where both you and my brother are," he replied, gently tilting her face up to him for a kiss just as a restless hand fell down between them and Dean remembered why his little brother was often so annoying. "Sammy? If you're awake I'm going to hurt you," he warned, growling under his breath as Morgan turned her face into his shoulder to muffle the sudden laugh. "Don't encourage him, Morg. You had lousy timing at twelve, Sam. Now, it's really bad."

If Sam was awake he knew better than to let on as he shifted his 6'4" frame on the tiny sofa seat but also managed to keep his hand close to his brother until finally Dean gave up.

"I will so make his life miserable for the next week," he promised himself while reaching back to pull the blanket up over his brother, looking back into the amused eyes of his friend. "Between him and Bobby, I'm surprised I ever got anywhere with you but…" Dean decided not to push after what Morgan had been through in Birkstown and just drew her into his arms to fall asleep even though he remained awake for a little while longer to just watch before lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered, swearing to smack Sam in the morning when he caught the small Sammy smirk on his face. "Yeah, you too, Geek-boy."

Sometime toward morning, Sam woke up to find both his blanket and Dean's leather jacket covering him. "Dean?" looking around he finally found his brother standing on the porch and that's when Sam realized the change. "Morgan…split again?" he asked carefully, curious when Dean didn't go tense and he seemed at ease.

"No, she left," he corrected, seeing his younger brother's confusion from the corner of his eye as he moved so Sam could join him. "The difference between this time and the rest is I know where she'll be. I know how to find her if we need her and…she said goodbye this time."

There it was. The raw emotion in his brother's voice that Sam had been waiting years to hear in regards to their friend. Sam had grown up around Dean and he knew there was a reason that his brother always dumped the girl or managed to get himself dumped before things went too deep that he could be hurt by that single word.

"Morgan'll always be here, Dean," he spoke softly, hesitating a second before risking the move to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder and expected it to be shrugged off but it wasn't. "She loves you but she also knows you can't afford the distraction right now."

"Yeah and not knowing where she is isn't a distraction, Sammy," Dean snorted but didn't sound angry as he leaned against the railing to look at his brother. "So, are we good now or do we really need to care and share anymore this job?" he asked in his usual snarky tone but there was no doubt in Sam's mind that his brother would do that if he felt Sam still needed it.

Smiling, Sam shook his head. "No, we're good," he assured his brother, not missing the relief that passed Dean's face but something still bothered him. "Dean…I keep thinking that I saw something in West Virginia that I couldn't have but…I don't remember what it was. Do you…"

"You were a drugged mess back there, Sammy," Dean replied, pushing off the railing to grip his brother's neck with both hands to pull him down until their heads met. "Most of what you saw were just crappy images that Zachariah wanted you to see. Don't worry about it. It's over, I got you back and if you ever pull a stunt like that on me again I will so make your life a living hell."

"When haven't you made my life a living hell, Dean?" Sam joked, not aware until he did it that this was the first time he and Dean had been this relaxed with each other to joke like this.

An eyebrow lifted at that remark and Dean was quick to hide the relief his felt that Sam was finally able to do that with him again. "Ha-ha, very funny. Get back inside before Bobby finds out you're outside without a shirt or jacket…bitch," he gave a little shove to nudge his brother inside the house while he waited to see if the usual comeback would come.

"Jerk," he heard Sam toss back a second before a shout from the owner of the house was heard calling them both idjits who wanted to catch pneumonia. Dean leaned his head against the door to offer a silent word of 'thanks' to whoever had been watching out for them this time since he knew how close he came to losing both his best friend and his little brother. "Bobby, somehow I doubt a cold is the worst thing that could happen to us," he shot back before shutting the door and failing to see the silhouette hidden in the murky darkness of the cars.

A tall, lean silhouette of a man who continued to watch the house for a long while before he stepped back into the shadows. "You should've listen to me, Dean," he spoke in a deep voice while he took a small battered and faded snapshot from the pocket of his jacket to look at it and ponder what he'd seen of Dean and Morgan's goodbye. "I never wanted her involved again but you don't leave me a choice."

**THE END**

**A/N: **_The end has finally come. I want to thank everyone who has read this and those who have reviewed it. This one turned out longer than I expected so I appreciate everyone's patience since a couple updates took longer to get up. I certainly hope you enjoyed it and will stay tuned for more stories in this series and others that I write._

_Yeah, I know. The ending was kind of…leading on wasn't it? I'm evil, what can I say but don't worry because Mirror Images will be starting very soon._

A little later that week


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